


The Warden and the Templar

by Raven_Rissa95



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Adamant Fortress, Andraste - Freeform, Angst, Arbor Wilds, Awakening, Awkward Crush, Awkward Cullen Rutherford, Awkward Romance, Battle of Ostagar, Betrayal, Breakup, Circle Tower, Circle of Magi, Companion Hawke, Cousins, Crestwood, Cullen Has Issues, Demons, Developing Relationship, Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Here Lies the Abyss, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, Drama, Emotional, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Ferelden, Ferelden Circle, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grey Warden Joining, Grey Wardens, Harrowing, Hate to Love, Hawke/Isabela - Freeform, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, In-Game Spoilers, In-game Dialogue, Infertility, King Alistair, Kinloch Hold, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Kissing, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Love, Love/Hate, Lyrium, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Mage Rebellion, Mage-Templar War, Mages and Templars, Named Amell (Dragon Age), On the Run, Orlais, Orlesian Grey Wardens, Ostagar, POV Cullen Rutherford, POV Multiple, Politics, Post-Dragon Age II, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Post-Dragon Age: Origins, Pre-Relationship, Protective Cullen Rutherford, Protective Hawke, Qunari, Red Lyrium, Religion, Reunions, Romance, Sarcastic Hawke, Skyhold, Slow Burn, Smut, Sweet Cullen Rutherford, Tension, The Calling, The Chantry (Dragon Age), The Western Approach, The Winter Palace (Dragon Age), Thedas, Tranquil, Unrequited Crush, War, Warden (Dragon Age) at Skyhold, Warden Amell (Dragon Age), Warden Carver Hawke, Warden in Dragon Age: II, Warden in Dragon Age: Inquisition, Wicked Grace, adoration, mage-templar romance, male hawke - Freeform, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2019-10-14 17:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 68
Words: 130,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Rissa95/pseuds/Raven_Rissa95
Summary: Solona Amell awaits her harrowing, knowing that it could come any day now. She’ll be glad to get the Templars off her back a little, when she becomes a fully-fledged member of the Circle of Magi—should she survive her harrowing.Life in the Circle Tower is a difficult one, not only for her, but for a newly qualified Templar, Cullen Rutherford, who is beginning to feel sympathy for the mages locked away from the world purely for their gift of magic. But if the other Templars knew about his feelings for Solona Amell, a woman he has never spoken to, but can’t help watching from a distance, he would surely be removed from the Order he admires.Join Cullen and Solona on their journey as the Fifth Blight strikes Ferelden, but it won’t end once the Blight is defeated… They meet again in Kirkwall, and again in Skyhold… But can a relationship between a Templar and a Mage work?





	1. Chapter 1

**DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS**

_1 – Solona_

“I’m sorry, Baby!” her mother wailed. “I’m so sorry!”

         “Don’t let them take me, Mama!” Solona wriggled and squirmed in the Templars’ grasp, holding both her arms with an iron grip. “Help me, Mama!”

         Revka crumbled to her knees in the busy street as they dragged her daughter away from their family home, kicking and screaming. Tears fell down her cheeks, her head in her hands.

         “Mama!” Solona screamed, but the Templars continued to drag her away as her mother sobbed, unable to do anything against the Order that were just doing their job…

 

“Solona?”

         Solona snapped out of her memories, her head whipping around on her shoulders to gather her bearings. She was sat at a desk opposite her friend, Jowan, in the Circle Tower’s library. Books covered every inch of wall space, the bookshelves reaching all the way up to the ceiling. The room smelled like old pages and dust, a smell that comforted Solona. She breathed it in deeply as she returned to the present.

         “You alright?” Jowan asked. “You looked a little dazed for a second there.”

         Solona waved away his concern. “I’m fine, just bored out of my mind reading all these.” She pushed away the book sitting on the desk in front of her and laid her head upon it, the wood cold against her cheek.

         “You have to help me!” Jowan moaned. “How am I supposed to pass my Harrowing without study! We’re not all as lucky as you!”

         Solona rolled her eyes. Jowan always called her talent for magic ‘lucky’. It came to her with ease. She hardly ever struggled with spells, apart from the extremely advanced ones. Her teachers praised her, but there was always a sense of worry that was rooted deep within her. _Am I too good?_ Mages were feared for their power. Some feared themselves so much that they _chose_ to become tranquil. Solona shuddered at the thought. Becoming an emotionless being cut off from The Fade seemed like a fate worse than death – one Solona worked hard to avoid. She always feared that a teacher would think her too powerful, too dangerous for her own good. So she made sure to pass each test thrown her way, but not to the best of her abilities. Just enough so that she was deemed in control of her powers, but not too good that they thought she was too powerful.

         _The last thing I want is another Templar to drag me away again_ , she thought.

         A flicker of movement on the other side of the room caught her eye. Firelight from a nearby fireplace reflected in a Templar’s armour, who stood watch by the entrance. She pursed her lips. _Always watching_. A few of them were nice enough, although that was usually because they had family members or friends who were mages, so they sympathised with her. But there were some Templars so ruthless, so cruel, that they _enjoyed_ making the mages feel uncomfortable. They knew that all they had to do was call out ‘blood magic’ or ‘abomination’ and they would have cause to kill a mage on sight.

         Usually she could ignore the Templars’ presence. They were stationed everywhere around the tower, standing watch like statues. The only place they didn’t keep watch was the mage quarters where the mages slept. _The only place for some peace and quiet without feeling a pair of eyes on your back_. But this time she felt herself drawn to the Templar standing nearby, watching her and Jowan pore over their books. He shifted from one foot to the other, catching her eye again and again as the firelight reflected in his armour. He had short, curly blond hair with hazel eyes. No older than eighteen, Solona predicted, the same as her.

         “ _Hello_!” Jowan waved his hand in front of her face, drawing her attention back to their table. “You said you’d help me, remember? Or are you going back on your promise?”

         “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” Solona moved her chair around to sit beside him. “What’re you having trouble with?”

         “Fire spells for a start,” Jowan told her through a sigh. “I can’t seem to cast them very well. They get out of hand so easily…”

         Solona clicked her fingers and a small orange flame appeared in her hand with ease. “It’s all about control,” she explained. The Templar standing watch tensed up at the sight of her spell. An armoured hand moved towards his sword. She ignored him. “You have to control the magic flowing to your hand,” she continued. “Don’t just do it haphazardly. Really _think_ about the size of the flames you want to create.” She closed her palm, and the crackling flame went out.

         Jowan screwed up his face and whispered, “Control…control…” over and over. He opened his palm and parted his lips to speak, but Solona quickly darted forward and crushed his hand shut.

         “Not in here!” she hissed, her eyes flicking over to the Templar again. He had taken a step forward, his eyes trained on Jowan. It was known that Jowan was not the best at magic. He knew the basics well enough, and he had the potential to improve with enough time and training, but his spells tended to be unpredictable at times. It was probably best not to cast a fire spell in the middle of the library filled with flammable furniture and books. “Maybe later, in our quarters,” she suggested quietly. “We don’t want _you-know-who_ getting the wrong idea.” She jutted her head in the direction of the Templar behind them.

         Jowan understood immediately, and hung his head. “I’ll never pass my harrowing,” he moaned quietly. “I’ll be made tranquil, just you wait and see.”

         “Don’t be stupid,” Solona scolded.

         “It’s true. Soon you’ll leave me behind and I’ll be an apprentice all by myself, without you to help me.”

         “I’ll still help you. Being a different rank doesn’t mean I’ll stop being friends with you, you know.”

         Jowan shook his head. “You won’t want to associate yourself with me, a lowly apprentice who can’t even perform the simplest spell without help.” He leaned back in his chair, defeated, running a hand through his shoulder-length black hair.

         Solona reached across the table and took his free hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair. “Who was the person that helped me settle in here?” she asked.

         Jowan didn’t look at her. “Me,” he mumbled.

         “Who scared off those Templars that teased me when I got lost finding my way to our quarters from my first class?”

         “I did.”

         “Who helped me master summoning spells?”

         “Me.” Jowan frowned. “What’s your point?”

         “You’re my best friend, Jowan. I’ll always be there for you, as you have been for me.”

         For the first time that day, Jowan smiled. “Thanks, Solona. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

         Solona returned his smile. “Now, let’s go over the theory of vanishing spells, shall we?”

***

Solona and Jowan spent most of the day in the library revising. They had lessons for six hours a day, five days a week, but today was the second of their two days off. Tomorrow…

         Tomorrow was the day of _her_  Harrowing, she was sure of it. She had been avoiding thinking about it for the past week, pushing it out of her mind so she could not fixate on it and drive herself to madness with worry. They never gave an exact date to a mage about to go through their Harrowing, but Solona had overheard some of the senior enchanters whispering about her. As she lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling in her top bunk, Jowan snoring gently beneath her in the bunk below, the worry began to eat away at her, slowly but surely, until it reached her heart which pumped faster in terror.

         She had no idea what to expect. Mages who had passed their Harrowing were forbidden to tell the apprentices who had yet to face one anything about the challenges they passed. Fear of the unknown gnawed away at her until her hands began to tremble, eyes stinging with hot tears. All she did know was that if she failed, she would not live to tell the tale.

         _No_ , she told herself sternly. _I must be brave._ She wiped away the tears with the back of her sleeve, hands curling into determined fists, jaw setting. _I can do this. I will be fine_. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pulled her blankets high up over her head to embrace the darkness that would bring the next morning.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_2 – Cullen_

_Maker, she’s beautiful_.

         Cullen could not stop staring at the mage sitting at a desk with her friend in the Tower’s library. Her long black hair fell down her back, almost touching the seat beneath her. Her eyes were the most startling blue he had ever seen, reminding him of the lake outside. How the water would shimmer and glow beneath the sun during the day, and how it sparkled beneath the moonlight at night.

         Even when she had cast a spell without permission in the middle of the library, although he had involuntarily twitched at the sight of unauthorised magic—a habit drilled into him from his Templar training—he had been unable to march over there to tell her off. Her beauty kept him transfixed, stuck in place as if she had cast a paralysis spell on him.

          _Only blood mages can control the mind_ , he reminded himself. _She is no blood mage_.

         She was the brightest light in the dull library. The smile she gave her friend as she leaned over to touch his hand made Cullen’s heart skip a beat. _Such a beautiful creature should not be locked away in a place like this_ , he thought. Although she was a mage, someone who was meant to be in the Circle of Magi like all other mages, he could not help but feel pity for her. Sometimes he noticed her sitting by windows, staring out at the world around them, placing a hand upon the glass as though it were her dream to escape this place.

         His training told him that everything he felt was wrong. He should not pity these people. This was where they were meant to be. Safe from the world, and from themselves. But Cullen could not see the danger she posed. The way she cast spells with ease was majestic. He had watched her a few times, when he had been stationed inside one of her classes. There was one time he remembered as clearly as a picture. She had made little orbs of light to dance around her. She twirled and they twirled with her, like little birds floating around her. He could not tear his eyes away, completely transfixed.

         A hard knock on his armoured arm brought him back to the present. “Your shift is over,” said a fellow Templar. “I’ll take it from here.”

         Cullen nodded and left his post, making his way to the Templar quarters on the fourth floor. He almost bumped into a couple of mages on the way, his mind distracted. They squealed in horror, their eyes pinned to his sword, before scurrying off along the corridor.

         He understood why they were so afraid of him. Templars had the power to kill a mage on sight if they believed them capable of blood magic. He had only been at Kinloch Hold for a few months now, so he had never had to exercise that power. He had seen a fellow Templar do so not long after his arrival, however. The poor woman was struck down where she stood after a Templar had seen blood on her hands. It turned out that she had only cut her finger on a knife she was using to cut up ingredients for a potion, but the damage had been done.

         _Magic is meant to serve man and never rule over him_. He had been taught that Mages were to be kept in place, otherwise they would take control of everyone and be a danger to the world. Cullen did not completely believe that, however. Someone like Jowan, perhaps, who was not very skilled at magic and often caused more accidents than casted proper spells, might have been capable of such a thing. But Solona Amell…

         _No, I do not believe she could do such a thing._ Not every mage was dangerous, and he felt pity for those locked away who may have been able to live normal lives with the right training and advice.

         “Cullen,” said a commanding voice. He turned to see Knight-Commander Greagoir marching up along the hallway towards him. He bowed automatically to his superior. “I’m glad I caught you. I have come to inform you that you will be attending a Harrowing tomorrow morning.”

         “A Harrowing, ser?” Cullen had never experienced a harrowing before, but he knew what it entailed. If the mage failed their Harrowing, he would have to execute them. Not a cheerful thought. “What mage will be taking part?”

         “Solona Amell,” Greagoir answered.

         Cullen’s heart dropped to the floor. It took everything within him not to let the shock he felt inside show on his face, keeping it neutral.

         “According to Irving, she’s a talented one. Let’s hope she passes.”

         Cullen could only nod in response, fearing what would come out of his mouth if he dared open it. _No! Not her! Anyone but her! If she failed…I don’t know if I could…_

         Greagoir bid him farewell and continued down the corridor ahead of Cullen. The young Templar stumbled back against the wall behind him, his breathing ragged. _Why did I have to be put on execution watch for_ her _of all people?_ But there was nothing he could do about it. If the other Templars began to believe that he had become soft towards the mages, it would shatter everything he had worked towards since the age of thirteen. It was his dream to become a Templar, and he was not about to throw it all away because of one woman that he had never even spoken to before!

         _Maker, I pray that she passes,_ he thought silently. _Spare me the pain of being the one to end her life._

         He swallowed his concerns and held himself tall, like a Templar should, continuing on towards the Templar quarters where he could take his mind off the task awaiting him tomorrow.

         Beneath his allocated bed sat a small box, one his fingers automatically reached for. A little blue bottle was inside, its contents glowing dully. Without a second thought, Cullen pulled out the cork and put the vial to his lips. The liquid oozed down his throat, sending a shiver through his spine. A rush of energy and a sense of bliss coursed through him. He sighed, licking his lips to obtain every drop.

         Tossing the box to the floor, he removed his armour and flopped onto his bed, allowing the blissful feeling to wash over him, pulling his thoughts away from Solona Amell and her Harrowing tomorrow. He fell into a dreamless sleep, his body still tingling.


	3. Chapter 3

_3 – Solona_

Solona refused to open her eyes. _If I keep them closed, I’ll still be asleep, and tomorrow will not have come yet._ She squeezed them shut, pulling the blanket over her head to block out the candlelight streaming in from beneath the door ahead of her.

         The creak of the mage quarters door opening startled her. Her fingers clutched onto the sheets around her.

         “Solona Amell,” said an official-sounding voice, “it is time for your Harrowing.”

         Solona took a shaky breath beneath the sheets, before peeking her head out from beneath them to give the two Templars standing beside her bed a small nod. They left the room so she could change into her apprentice robes, purple and blue, so long they touched the floor.

         “Good luck,” said Jowan from his bunk with a yawn. “I know you’ll pass with flying colours.”

         Solona could only manage a weak smile in return. She fumbled with the buttons on her robes, fingers trembling. _This is it. The day I become a full member of the Circle…or die trying_.

         She was escorted to the Harrowing chamber at the very top of the tower by the two Templars. It was a large, empty, circular room, and inside several people were waiting for her. First Enchanter Irving, Knight-Commander Greagior, and a handful of Templars, who watched her from beneath their helmets with beady eyes, their hands twitching by their sides, as if eager to strike her down with their weapons. She took another shaky breath to calm her nerves.

         She recognised one of the Templars waiting for her as she walked into the room. One with curly blond hair and hazel eyes. He quickly looked away from her as their eyes met, intent on staring at a particular spot on the floor.

         “Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him,” Knight-Commander Greagior began. “Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin.” He turned to Solona. “Your magic is a gift, but it is also a curse. For demons of the dream realm—the Fade—are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway into this world.”

         Irving stepped forward. “This is why the Harrowing exists. This ritual sends you into the Fade, and there you will face a demon, armed with only your will.”

         _I have to go into the Fade?_ No training could have prepared her for that. The very thought sent a shiver through her body. “What happens if I cannot defeat the demon?” she asked, although she had a feeling that she already knew the answer.

         “It will turn you into an abomination,” Greagior answered, “and the Templars will be forced to slay you.” He pointed to a stand in the centre of the room. Upon its top was a bowl. The contents glowed a dull blue. “This is lyrium,” he explained. “The very essence of magic and your gateway into the Fade.”

         Solona stared at it numbly.

          “The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child,” said Irving. “Every mage must go through this trial by fire. As we succeeded, so shall you.” Leaning in close, he patted her arm comfortingly and whispered, “Keep your wits about you, and remember the Fade is a realm of dreams. The spirits may rule it, but your own will is real.”

         Greagior cut in sharply. “The apprentice must go through this test _alone_ , First Enchanter.” His expression softened. “You are ready,” he told Solona, gesturing towards the lyrium.

         Solona closed her eyes, crushing her hands into fists to stop them from trembling. _I can do this,_ she told herself firmly. _I can do this. I can do this._ She pushed herself to walk forward, even though her body was screaming at her to run. To turn around and go back to the mage quarters with Jowan where she was safe.

         She reached out a shaking hand towards the lyrium. Hesitantly, she touched its glowing surface. It was drawn to her hand like a magnet, glowing brighter and brighter until it consumed her completely, the light blinding her.

***

When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the Harrowing Chamber. She turned on the spot, gathering her bearings. The world around her was nothing like she had ever seen before. It was covered in a greenish haze. Crumbling bits of buildings were scattered around her, and tall, twisted trees and rocks that reached the sky…if this place had a sky that is. The ground was cracked and hard beneath her feet as she took a few hesitant steps to find that it was solid.

         “Okay…” she said aloud, increasingly aware that there was no one else here with her. “Where do I go from here?” Upon closer examination, a winding path appeared to be before her. “I suppose forward is as good a way as any.”

         In this place, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. It was similar to when one has a good dream and you relax, letting it consume you. She strolled along the path, feeling more confident here, in the realm of dreams, than in the real world, where the Templars were watching over her body.

         A wisp wraith crossed her path. She stared at it curiously, watching as it floated about in the air, a glowing yellow ball of light. It suddenly shot magical energy towards her, forcing her to duck out of its way. With a yelp, she raised her hands instinctively and released lightning from her palms. It destroyed the wisp with a ‘pfft’ sound, and in a puff of smoke it was gone.

         _I have a feeling that that’s the easiest thing I’m going to face._

         She continued along the path that rose and fell, steep and flat. _Thank goodness for all those stairs in the Tower_ , she thought optimistically. _They’ve build up my stamina._

         A sudden voice stopped her dead. “Someone else thrown to the wolves,” it said wryly. “As fresh and unprepared as ever.”

         Solona jumped, head whipping around in every direction, but there was no one there. _Is someone playing tricks or…_ Then she looked down. By her feet was a brown mouse, looking up at her with beady eyes.

         “It isn’t right that they do this, the Templars. Not to you, me, anyone.”

         “Y-You’re a talking rat,” Solona blurted.

         The mouse laughed. “You think you’re really here? In that body? You look like that because you _think_ you do!” It sighed. “It’s always the same. But it’s not your fault. You’re in the same boat I was, aren’t you?”

         A small light glowed from the mouse’s chest, glowing brighter until it consumed it. When the light faded, a man stood in its place, dressed in red Circle robes.

         “Allow me to welcome you to the Fade,” he said. “You can call me…well…Mouse.”

         Solona forgot herself for a moment, standing gobsmacked at the man before her. _Well, this is the Fade. The place of dreams where weird things happen, apparently._

         “You took the Harrowing?” she asked.

         “It’s fuzzy,” he replied, rubbing his fingers across his forehead, “that time before. They wake you up in the middle of the night and drag you to the Harrowing Chamber, and then…” His face twisted into a snarl. “The Templars kill you if you take too long, you see. They figure you failed and they don’t want something getting out. That’s what they did to me, I think. I have no body to reclaim. And you don’t have much time before you end up the same.”

         Solona shook her head stubbornly. “That isn’t going to happen to me.”

         “That has been said before. But you don’t know the danger…” He glanced about the area around them. “There’s something here, contained, just for an apprentice like you. You have to face the creature, a demon, and resist it, if you can. That’s your way out. Or your opponent’s if the Templars wouldn’t kill you. A test for you, a tease for the creatures of the Fade. What you face is powerful, cunning. There are others here, other spirits. They will tell you more, maybe help. If you can believe anything you see.

         “I’ll follow, if that’s alright. My chance was long ago, but you…you may have a way out.”

         Solona nodded. _I suppose being with a talking rat-man in the Fade is better than being alone._ Feeling slightly more confident with a companion by her side, she continued onward, the mouse scurrying alongside her.


	4. Chapter 4

_4 – Solona_

A glowing knight stood atop a hillside, almost transparent in the green hue of the Fade.

         “Another spirit this way,” said Mouse. “It never seemed equal to its name, to me.”

        Solona blew air out of puffed cheeks. _Such a happy fellow_.

         He spoke with an echoed, deep voice that sounded far away. “I am Valor,” it said, “a warrior spirit. I hone my weapons in search of the perfect expression of combat.” He gestured behind him with a jut of his thumb to several racks of dangerous-looking weapons, from swords to bows, to staffs. “I will give one to you, if you agree to duel me first. Valor shall test your metal, as it should be tested!”

         Solona frowned, putting a knuckle between her teeth. _I could use one of those staffs_ , she thought. _Perhaps they’ll be useful against this demon I’m supposed to face_.

         She opened her mouth to speak, and then paused. _This could be a test. A demon in disguise to trick me into a duel I cannot win._

         She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you sure this ‘duel’ is just that? It seems like you want to kill me yourself.”

         A flash of anger darted across the spirit’s eyes. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I am a spirit of Valor! A warrior! Not a demon that prays upon helpless mortals to steal their essence!”

         She took a step back, shaken by the sudden reaction. “I-If you are what you say, then prove it!” she said. “Help me fight the demon!”

         “You are insolent,” it growled, “but your will is unquestionably strong.” Then its face relaxed. “Very well, mortal. You have proved to me that you possess the strength to resist this demon.” It walked over to the weapon racks behind it, picked out a long wooden staff and handed it to her. “Take this. I am confident that you will succeed.”

         She held it in her palms, squeezing the wood gently. It hummed and buzzed with magical energy, and she felt her own magic buzzing along with it, her entire body tingling. “Thank you,” she said, before turning away to continue on the path, Mouse right behind her.

***

Solona froze, pressing herself up against a twisted, dead tree as she spotted a great mass of red and brown ahead of her. It looked like a bear with red skin and brown spikes dotted along its body. It snored loudly, the sound echoing across the open planes.

         _Be brave, be brave, be brave_.

         One deep breath in, and one out. One in, one out. She forced herself to step out from behind the tree and approached the sleeping beast, though she kept one hand free by her side, in case she needed to use her new staff.

         The creature lifted its head. “Hmm…so you are the mortal being hunted?” it said, its voice slow and thick, like mud. “And the small one…is he to be a snack for me?”

         Mouse transformed back into a man beside her. He latched onto her arm. “I-I don’t like this,” he whispered. “He’s not going to help us. We should go.”

         The creature sniffed. “No matter. The demon will get you eventually, and perhaps there will even be scraps left.”

         Solona slipped out of Mouse’s grasp, freeing her arm. “What do you know about this demon?” she asked.

         It chuckled. “I know that you will fail your test, and he will eat you.”

         Solona rolled her eyes. _Is everyone so cheerless here?_

         “Begone!” it moaned. “Surely you have better things to do than bother Sloth, mortal. I tire of you already.” It curled up into a ball and closed its eyes, as if it were going back to sleep.

         _Sloth?_ Solona was sure she had heard that name before. It was a creature that drained your energy, your life essence, enticing you with perfect dreams you would never want to leave until you wasted away into nothing. She took a step back from the creature. “Well…we’ll just be going then.”

         Solona turned to walk away, but the creature stopped her. “You let go of your human form many years ago, did you not, little one?” It took her a moment to realise it was talking to Mouse, not her.

         Mouse squeaked, “I-I think we should go.”

         “You could teach the mortal how to change,” it said.

         “Or,” Solona cut in, “ _you_ could teach _Mouse_ to be like you. A bear.” _A much better idea,_ she thought. She was not willing to change into anything. _What if I couldn’t change back?_

         Mouse’s eyes widened fearfully. “Are you insane! How would I hide?”

         “If you’re scared…” Solona prodded.

         Mouse scowled. “I have faced many things in the Fade! Of course I am afraid! You would be crazy not to be!” He sighed. “But you’re right. Hiding will solve nothing.” He turned to the demon. “Will you teach me?”

         The creature cocked its head curiously. “You wish to learn my form, little one? Then I have a challenge for you and your friend. Answer three riddles correctly, and I will teach you. Fail…and I will devour you both. The decision is yours.”

         Mouse clutched onto her arm again. “Maybe this isn’t such a good—”

         “I accept your challenge, Sloth,” Solona declared.

         The beast appeared to smile, flashing a set of bloody teeth. “Truly? This gets more and more promising.

         “My first riddle is this: I have seas with no water, coasts with no sand, towns without people, mountains without land. What am I?”

         _Seas with no water…coasts with no sand…towns without people…mountains without land…_ It could only be…

         “A map,” she said confidently. “That was an easy one.”

         The creature grumbled. “Correct. Let’s move on to the second riddle: I’m rarely touched, but often held. If you have the wit, you’ll use me well. What am I?”

         _Not something touched, but held. You need wit to use it…_

         “My tongue.”

         “Yes, your witty tongue,” it droned. “Fair enough. One more try, shall we?

         “Often will I spin a tale, never will I charge a fee. I’ll amuse you an entire eve, but, alas, you won’t remember me. What am I?”

         _An entire eve…that could be at night…what do I do at night that’s entertaining…_

         “A dream.”

         The creature grumbled again. “You are correct. Rather apropos here in the Fade, no? But you’ve won my challenge and proven yourself an amusing distraction. So, I shall teach you my form. Now listen carefully…”

         He whispered in a language Solona did not understand, but a few moments later, Mouse transformed beside her into a huge, fluffy, brown bear.

         “Like this?” Mouse asked, wiggling his limbs. “Am I a bear? It feels…heavy.”

         “Go then,” said Sloth, dismissively, “defeat your demon…or whatever you intend to do. I grow weary of your mortal prattling.”

         Solona and Mouse backed away and continued along the path once again, leaving Sloth to go back to sleep and snore loudly.

***

Eventually, they came across a path lit either side by flames, leading to a circular ground surrounded by fire. “And there,” said mouse, “is a spirit of rage.”

         _Rage?_ Solona gulped. _Sounds pretty dangerous._

         A creature of fire rose from the ground. It had no legs, only two long arms and glowing eyes that looked like the flames around them. “And so it comes to me at last,” it said. “Soon I shall see the land of the living with your eyes, creature. You shall be mine, body and soul.”

         She whipped out her staff in readiness as fear rippled through her, heart racing and palms sweating. “Come and get me then,” she said, her voice shaking slightly.

         The creature grinned, its mouth filled with the same fire that lit its eyes. “Oh, I shall.” Then it turned to Mouse beside her. “So this creature is your offering, Mouse? Another plaything, as per our arrangement?”

         Solona turned to him, confused. “What is he talking about?”

         Mouse had his head in his hands. “I’m not offering you anything!” he said through his fingers. “I don’t have to help you anymore!”

         “Aww. And after all those wonderful meals we have shared? Now suddenly the mouse has changed the rules?”

         Mouse puffed himself out. “I’m not a mouse now! And soon, I won’t have to hide! I don’t need to bargain with you!”

         The creature’s eyes narrowed. “We shall see…”

         The demon swarmed towards her, arms raised, heat radiating from its body. Mouse transformed behind her from his human form into a raging bear. He charged at the demon with bared teeth. Solona stepped back, summoning ice to her hands, cold mist pouring from her fingertips. _Ice versus fire. Let’s see who wins._

         She commanded the ice towards the demon. As soon as it touched its body, it froze as though encased in ice. Mouse snapped and clawed at the demon, pieces of ice breaking away. Solona tapped her staff on the ground, and at her command, lightning surged from its tip. It surrounded the demon, and a high pitched, ear-piercing wail forced Solona to cover her ears, breaking the spell.

         The demon broke free, shattering the ice around its body, sending it in every direction. Solona jumped out of the way as two shards of ice zoomed towards her. One cut her arm, tearing at her robe. She hissed, grabbing the cut on her arm that began to bleed, staining her robe red. She shouted in anger, releasing more lightning from her staff. The creature wailed again, but Solona stood strong, tightening her grip on her staff and clenching her jaw as the demon’s cries hurt her ears.

         It curled into a ball and exploded into a plume of fire, sending a shockwave that blasted both Mouse and Solona back onto the ground behind them. Solona slammed into the ground but quickly scrambled to her feet, eyes darting around to see where the next enemy was, but all that was left was her and Mouse.

         He transformed back into his human form. “You did it,” he cried. “You actually did it! When you came, I hoped that you might be able to…but I never really thought any of you were worthy.”

         Solona was relieved it was over, taking deep breaths to slow her racing pulse. But the grip on her staff did not loosen. Something about Mouse made her feel uneasy. The demon had said that they had shared meals together, of past mages who had taken their Harrowing. There was something about the glee in Mouse’s eyes that made her wary.

         “That was a little too easy,” she said.

         “That is because you are a true mage, one of the few. The others, they never had a chance. The Templars set them up to fail, like they tried with you.” He looked away. “I regret my part in it, but you have shown me that there is hope. You can be so much more than you know.”

         Solona swallowed. Mouse began to look at her hungrily, never breaking his gaze, hardly blinking.

         “What is it that you think you can get from me?” she asked.

         “You defeated a demon, you completed your test. With time, you will be a master enchanter with no equal. And maybe there’s hope in that for someone as small and as…forgotten as me. If you want to help.”

         Solona tensed. _Something isn’t right here._

         “There may be a way for me to leave here,” Mouse continued, “to get a foothold outside. You just need to want to let me in.”

          She took a step back. “I’m starting to think the other demon wasn’t my test.”

         Mouse frowned. “What? What are you… Of course it was! What else is here that could harm an apprentice of your potential?” It was as though ice shot through her veins. Mouse’s face warped into a smirk. “You are a smart one.” His voice became deep and distant, not unlike the rage demon before him. “Simple killing is a warrior’s job. The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions, careless trust…pride.”

         Mouse lifted his arms and his body transformed once again, but not into a bear or mouse. His form became twisted and large, towering over her by several feet. His skin turned purple, horns grew from his head, his limbs extended…

         _A pride demon_.

         “Keep your wits about you, mage,” said the demon. “True tests never end.” Then he faded away, as if he were never there.


	5. Chapter 5

_5 – Cullen_

_Please pass, please pass, please pass…_

         Cullen silently prayed to the Maker that He would help guide Solona through her Harrowing. He watched with everyone else in the chamber as her body twitched and jerked. Lightning and ice sparkled faintly around her palms, but otherwise she simply lay there, as if sleeping. Her face would twist into a scowl, widen with fear, frown with suspicion.

         She gasped a couple of times, making Cullen jump. _I hope she’s okay._ Cullen didn’t know what she would face, only that she would be tempted by demons. _Please resist them, Solona,_ he begged internally. _The last thing I want to do is cut you down._

         Every time her body jerked, the Templars readied themselves, hands moving to their blades. But when she relaxed, they did too. Cullen barely took his eyes off her, keeping an eye on any signs of her transforming into an abomination, and also to try and figure out how she was doing.

         “It has been over an hour,” said a Templar standing beside him.

         “Give her more time,” Cullen snapped. “She shows no signs of temptation, leave her be.”

         The Templar looked at him with furrowed brows, but said no more. _They will not cut her down whilst she still has time._

         Eventually, her eyes opened and she coughed and spluttered, gasping for air. It was as though a huge weight had been lifted from Cullen’s chest, and he breathed a sigh of relief. _Thank the Maker, she did it._

         First Enchanter Irving rushed to her side, and gently patted her head. “Well done, child.”

         She smiled weakly at the familiar faces around her, before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed.

 

_Solona_

“Are you alright? Say something, please…”

         _I know that voice_ … Solona opened her eyes and turned her head towards her visitor. “Jowan?” she said, sitting up. Looking around, her eyes groggy, she realised she was inside the mages’ quarters, back in her bed.

         “I’m glad you’re alright,” he said, a relieved smile on his face. “They carried you in this morning.” He held out his arms and she fell into his embraced, overjoyed to see her friend again.

         “I’ve heard about apprentices who never came back from Harrowings,” he said, pulling away. “Is it really that dangerous? What was it like?”

         Solona was torn. Jowan was her best friend, someone she trusted implicitly…but Irving had told them that mages were not supposed to know what the Harrowing was before they took it.

         “I-It was a test of ability—that’s all.”

         Jowan cocked his head to one side. “There must be something more, or they would tell the apprentices what’s involved. I know I’m not supposed to know…but we’re friends. Just a little hint, and I’ll stop asking, I promise!”

         Solona chewed on her lip. Looking around to make sure they were alone, she whispered, “I had to enter the Fade.”

         “Really? That’s it?”

         “Not exactly. I had to defend myself from demons.”

         Jowan pursed his lips in thought. “That…makes sense. They want to see if you can resist a demon and stop yourself from becoming an abomination.” He sighed. “And now you get to move to the nice mages’ quarters upstairs. I’m stuck here and I don’t know when they’ll call me for _my_ Harrowing.”

         She patted his arm. “Don’t worry too much about it, Jowan. It’ll come soon enough.”

         He snorted. “Easy for you to say. I’ve been here longer than you have… Sometimes I think they just don’t want to test me.”

         Solona shook her head at him. “Everyone goes through a Harrowing, Jowan.”

         “The Tranquil don’t,” he retorted, crossing his arms like a stubborn child. “You do the Harrowing, the Rite of Tranquillity…or you die. That’s what happens. If…If they don’t call apprentices to the Harrowing, it probably means…Tranquillity. You’ve seen the Tranquil around the tower. Like Owain, who runs the stockroom.” Jowan shuddered. “He’s so cold. No, not cold. There’s just…nothing in him. It’s like he’s dead, but still walking. His voice, his eyes are lifeless…

         “The Circle forces Tranquillity on those they feel are weak,” he continued. “And sometimes they force it upon apprentices they think might be too…dangerous as mages.” His shoulders sagged. “Anyway, I was supposed to tell you to see Irving as soon as you woke. You’d better not keep him waiting.” Jowan walked away, head hanging low.

         Solona ran her hands through her hair to smooth it out. Many of the other apprentices were staring at her. She ignored them and changed into a clean set of robes. She had sweated so much in her current ones it was as though someone had thrown a bucket of water over her. As she changed, she could not help but overhear a couple of mages standing by some beds nearby.

         “Did you hear anything?” one whispered. “Is she all right? Is she awake?”

         “Why do _you_ care?” said the other. “Are you best friends now?”

         “I’m just curious! That Templar, Cullen, said it was the quickest, cleanest Harrowing he’d ever seen! He says she’s very talented and brave.”

         The other snorted. “Well, he would, wouldn’t he?”

         _What’s that supposed to mean?_ she wondered. _Cullen…I’m sure I know that name._ She thought back to the day before with Jowan, where a nearby Templar had been keeping an eye on them. _That’s him, right? The one who was also at my Harrowing._ She remembered his hazel eyes and curly blond hair. Taller than her, but a little shorter than most of the Templars.

         _I’d better go and see Irving._ She left the mage quarters and wandered down the corridor outside. Fellow mages congratulated her as she passed. _News spreads quickly here._ Even a few of the nicer Templars nodded to her. _Of course they acknowledge me now, I’m no longer a threat!_ Even so, she smiled back at them. Better to stay on their good side.

         At the end of the corridor stood a familiar-looking Templar, one she had just been thinking about. _Cullen_. Before she could think, her body drew itself towards him.

         “Hey!” she said as she approached. “You were at my Harrowing.”

         Cullen’s eyes widened like a startled animal. “Oh, um, h-hello,” he stuttered. “I… uh, am glad to see your Harrowing went smoothly.”

         Solona jerked her head back at his odd behaviour. “Is everything alright?” she asked. His eyes couldn’t meet hers.

         He nervously dropped his gaze to the floor. “What? I’m fine!” he replied with a shakily laugh. “I… uh, I’m just glad you’re all right. You know?”

         _So am I,_ she thought amusedly. Then she remembered what his task had been—to cut her down if she had become an abomination. “Would you have killed me in the Harrowing?” she asked, curious. “I mean, have you killed many mages before?”

         Cullen shook his head, a rosy pink blush flushing across his cheeks. “I would’ve felt terrible about it… But… but I serve the Chantry and the Maker, and I will do as I am commanded.”

         Solona resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _Another Chantry lover—just the same as any other Templar._ A deep rage began to brew deep inside of her. _You’d cut an innocent person down because the Chantry tells you to._

         She took a deep breath to calm herself. Now was not the time to get mad. Not in front of a Templar anyway.

         The clinking of armour from a pair of patrolling Templars brought her back to the conversation. “Psst! Look,” said one, “Cullen’s finally talking to her!”

         The other Templar chortled, and shouted, “Go get her, Cull!” mockingly, before they walked away.

         “What was that about?” Solona asked.

         Cullen had turned a bright shade of red. “Oh, my goodness. No! What they said was… They didn’t mean it as… that would be really inappropriate and… I couldn’t…” He cleared his throat, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I uh…I-I should go.” Cullen darted down the corridor without another word, leaving Solona dumbfounded, staring after him.

         Venturing further down the corridor, a pair of whispering voices made her pause. It was coming from another room in the mages quarters. Solona pressed her back against the cold stone as she hid behind the door, listening to the two mages whispering to one another.

         “Did you hear? They suspect someone of dabbling in blood magic!”

         Her stomach jolted. _Blood magic? This can’t be good._

         “Why would anyone do something so stupid? That’s a death sentence.”

         “Because blood magic is powerful? You can bend others to your will…and…and…force demons into your service. That’s what I hear anyway.”

         What the mages said troubled her, knotting her stomach. _No one would dare use blood magic in the Circle,_ she thought. It was a dangerous weapon. Mages had been taught that form the second they stepped inside the Tower. _This won’t end well._


	6. Chapter 6

_6 – Solona_

Irving was in the senior mage quarters waiting for her, but he was not alone. With him was Knight-Commander Greagoir and a face Solona had never seen before. He was tall and roguish, with black hair pulled back into a ponytail and a matching coloured beard that sat along his jaw.

         They were deep in conversation as Solona hesitantly wandered inside. “…many have already gone to Ostagar,” said Greagoir, frustration wrinkled across his face. “Wynne, Uldred, and most of the senior mages! We’ve committed enough of our own to this war effort—”

         “Your own?” said Irving, cocking an eyebrow. “Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Greagoir? Or are you afraid to let the mages out from under Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker-given powers?”

         “How dare you suggest—”

         The roguish man stepped in as tensions brewed. “Gentlemen, please. Irving, someone is here to see you.”

         Solona swallowed as all eyes turned on her. “You sent for me?”

         “Ah! If it isn’t our new sister in the Circle,” said Irving. “Come, child.”

         The roguish man stepped forward, his eyes pinned on her curiously. “This is…?”

         Irving smiled proudly. “Yes, this is she.”

         Solona frowned. _Have they been talking about me?_

         “Well, Irving,” said Greagor making a move towards the door, “you’re obviously busy. We will discuss this later.”

         “Of course,” Irving replied with forced politeness. “Well, then...where was I? Oh, yes. This is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens.”

         Solona’s jaw almost fell open. _The Grey Wardens?_ They were legendary heroes who had saved Thedas four times from Blights. She had read about the Order in books stashed away in the library. She looked up at Duncan in awe. “It’s a pleasure to meet you!” she said, failing to hide her excitement.

         “You’ve heard about the war brewing in the south, I expect?” said Irving. “Duncan Is recruiting mages to join the King’s army at Ostagar. Anyway, enough about wars and fighting. The Harrowing is behind you. Your phylactery was sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage within the Circle of Magi.”

         Solona smiled, although it did not reach her eyes. “Thank you, First Enchanter.” Although this was a momentous moment where she had finally proved herself worthy and in control, having a vial of blood taken from her so that the Circle could track her every move was a little disheartening. It was like a leash around her neck. They said passing the Harrowing gained you freedom, but this didn’t feel like freedom. Now the little vial was on the opposite side of Ferelden, there was no way she was getting it back.

         Irving walked over to a cupboard and pulled out a bundle, which he handed to her. “I present you with your robes, your staff, and a ring bearing the Circle’s insignia. Wear them proudly, for you have earned them.”

         “Thank you.”

         “It goes without saying that you shall not discuss the Harrowing with those who have not undergone the rite.”

         Solona gulped. _Well…I’m sure Jowan doesn’t count. Technically he didn’t ask me not to tell anyone until now so…it’s not really my fault._

         “Now, then…take your time to rest, or study in the Library. The day is yours. But before that, would you be so kind as to escort Duncan back to his room, child?”

         _Escorting a legendary Grey Warden?_ “It would be my pleasure!”

         “Excellent. Now, I must find Greagoir to continue our…business.”

         Solona gestured for Duncan to follow her out of the room. Together they walked side by side along the corridor, fellow mages staring at the pair as they passed.

         “Thank you for accompanying me,” said Duncan, his voice deep. “I am glad for the company.”

         “As am I,” she replied. “Now people have something else to stare at!”

         Duncan chuckled. “I suppose you mages do not get visitors from the outside world often. Their attitude is understandable.”

         A couple of female mages squealed in delight at the sight of Duncan in his red and grey armour, with two daggers in a harness on his back. Solona shook her head at them. _They’re acting like they’ve never seen a rogue before_. Neither had she in all honesty, but she had read about them in plenty of books. Duncan was a splitting image of what a rogue should be. Dark eyes and hair, beard neatly trimmed. A toned physique, and a calming aura of control. She felt at ease in his presence, her tense shoulders relaxing.

         “Can I ask you something, Duncan?” she said.

         “Of course.”

         “What is happening outside? Outside the Tower, I mean. I heard that many mages have left for Ostagar but no one really tells us anything…”

         “Darkspawn have rose to the surface,” he answered calmly. “A horde has formed within the Korcari Wilds in the south. If they are not stopped, they will strike north into the valley. We Grey Wardens believe that an archdemon is leading the horde.”

         Solona gasped. _An archdemon?_ She knew little about the Grey Wardens and darkspawn, but it was common knowledge that an archdemon was an Old God tainted by darkspawn. She wanted to ask Duncan a million questions. About the Grey Wardens, darkspawn, the world outside, and more, but she didn’t want to look like the rest of the desperate mages she shared the Tower with, completely cut off from the outside world. So she held her tongue.

         “That sounds…ominous.”

         “Darkspawn do attack the surface in ragtag bands, but archdemons are capable of rallying the darkspawn, turning them into an unstoppable force. A horde of darkspawn…a veritable army. It is dire news indeed. I fear this is what we will have to face.” He smiled at the fear in her eyes. _That sounds horrific_. “But, let us not dwell on such things.”

         “Agreed,” she wheezed, her fingers clutching the hem of her sleeves. For once in her life, she felt safe in the Tower, away from the dangers of the outside world. She had never seen a darkspawn before, but from rumours, they appeared horrifying. Disfigured. Bloody. She shuddered at the thought.

         They reached the guest chambers on the opposite side of the tower. Unlike the mage quarters Solona had lived in for most of her life, here it was one luxurious room with a double bed, sofas and bookshelves. She gaped at the luxury. _I wonder how luxurious my new quarters will be._ She would be moving from the apprentice quarters to the mage quarters, with everyone else who had passed their Harrowing.

         “Thank you,” said Duncan as he walked inside.

         “You’re very welcome,” Solona replied with a little bow. “I hope to speak with you again soon.”

         “As do I.”

         Solona left the room, closing the door behind her. She took two steps forward before someone collided with her shoulder.

         “Hey! Watch where you’re—”

         “Solona!” said Jowan breathlessly, as if he had been running. “Thank goodness I found you. Are you done talking with Irving?”

         “Yes…” She studied him curiously. His forehead glistened with beads of sweat, his eyes wide and frantic, full of fear. “Is something wrong?”

         “I need to talk to you,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Do you remember what we discussed earlier?

         “Why are you whispering?”

         He darted forward and put a finger to her lips. “Shh! I…I just want to make sure we’re not overheard.”

         Unease settled in the pit of her stomach. “Perhaps we should go somewhere else then?”

         Jowan nodded and took her by the hand. She followed hesitantly, watching her friend as he dragged her along the corridors. His eyes darted about the place. He squeaked whenever a senior mage crossed their path. _This doesn’t look good._

         Eventually she found herself inside the Tower’s chapel. A chantry woman waited for them at the back of the room. Red hair tied back from her face, dressed in the red and white robes of the Chantry.

         Solona ripped her hand from Jowan’s grasp. “Alright, what’s going on?” she demanded.

         “I don’t know if you remember, but a few months ago I told you that I…met a girl. This is Lily.” Jowam gestured to the chantry woman beside him.

         “You’re kidding?” Solona blurted. “I thought you meant another mage! She’s a _Chantry initiate_! That’s forbidden.”

         “So you can see why we have kept it a secret,” Lily replied.

         “Lily’s been given to the Chantry,” said Jowan. “She’s not allowed to have… _relations_ with men. If anyone finds out…we’ll both be in trouble.”

         The torn sensation returned. It felt as though she was being pulled in two directions. The Circle’s teachings told her that this was an awful thing that should be stopped. But her friendship and love for Jowan tore her in another direction, telling her that she should support him, no matter his choices. It was as though the Chantry and Jowan were playing tug of war with her feelings.

         “What is this all about?” she asked. Surely he had not brought her all this way to reveal his hidden affair? He could have told her that under the cover of night in the mage quarters.

         Fear returned to Jowan’s eyes, startling Solona. “Remember I said that I didn’t think they wanted to give me my Harrowing? I know why. They’re…going to make me tranquil.”

         The pit of her stomach fell to the floor, nausea rising in her throat. “No,” she gasped, hands covering her open mouth.

         “They’ll take everything that I am from me!” he cried, eyes welling with tears. “My dreams, hopes, fears…my love for Lily. All gone…”

         “I…don’t know what to say,” Solona said through her fingers. “Are you sure?”

         Jowan nodded. From the fear in his voice that broke with every word and the glistening tears in his eyes, she knew he was telling the truth. She was going to lose her friend.

         “But…what does this have to do with me?”

         “I need to escape. I need to destroy my phylactery. Without it, they can’t track me down.” He looked at her with pitiful eyes. “We need your help. Lily and I can’t do this on our own.”

         “Give us your word that you will help,” said Lily, “and we will tell you what we intend.”

         Jowan looked to her hopefully, his gaze never breaking from her. Both of their eyes bored into her. What could she do? She couldn’t let her friend become a mindless drone! But what they were speaking of was treason.

         “Y-You have my word, Lily.”

         “Thank you,” she said with a smile, and Jowan smiled too.

         “So what is your plan?”

         “I can get us into the repository, but there’s a problem. There are two locks on the phylactery chamber door. The first enchanter and knight-commander each hold one key.”

         “Then it’s impossible to open,” said Solona. “You can’t possibly get both keys. You’d be lucky just to get one.”

         Jowan screwed up his face in thought. “I’ve seen a rod of fire melt a lock. You could get one from the stock room. But Owain wouldn’t give it to an apprentice like me.”

         _So that’s where I come in. I see._ She looked between her friend and his lover, both of them pinning all their hopes on her. The pressure was enough to make her snap. It suddenly became hard to breathe.

         “I’ll see what I can do,” she replied. “But I can’t make any promises.”

         “Thank you!” they said together.

         With that, she left them in the chapel together, her mind racing along with her heart.

         _Oh, Solona, what have you gotten yourself into now._


	7. Chapter 7

_7 – Solona_

She raced to the library near the stockroom and planted herself down at a desk slumping down in her chair. _What do I do?_ she moaned silently, holding her head in her hands. _Jowan is asking too much of me._ He wanted her involved in something so dangerous and treacherous that it could cost her her own life as well as his and Lily’s. _Did he even consider how I might have felt about this? Or what would happen to me if I was caught? I only passed my Harrowing last night!_

         “Is something the matter?” said a gentle voice.

         Her head snapped up at the voice. Templar Cullen stood on the other side of the table, watching her curiously.

         “No,” she said automatically. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry yourself.” She moved to stand, but he raced around the table towards her.

         “I’m sorry!” he stuttered. “I just…you looked distressed and I…well I thought…I mean…are you okay?”

         She tilted her head to one side, black hair falling over her shoulder. “You’re concerned about me?” she asked, making his cheeks flush pink. “But you’re a Templar. The only thing you should feel for me is contempt.”

         “I…could never feel…I mean…I just…yes, I was—am—concerned…about…about you.” His armoured hand rubbed the back of his neck.

         The corners of Solona’s mouth twitched at his behaviour. “A Templar concerned about a mage…this is a first for me.” She shifted in her seat so that she was facing him as he lent on the edge of the desk. “I overheard that you thought my Harrowing was one of the cleanest and quickest you’d ever experienced.”

         Cullen’s cheeks flushed a darker shade of pink. “I…who told…I mean…I…” he spluttered, running a hand through his blond curls and turning away from her. “You are a…talented and…well…beautiful woman. I cannot see what would trouble you so.”

         “So talented and beautiful people can’t have prob—wait, did you just call me beautiful?”

         Cullen’s eyes widened. “Oh! I um…oh dear…that was inappropriate of me…I’m…so sorry.”

         “So you _don’t_ think I’m beautiful?” she asked playfully.

         “No! No I do! You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen!”

         Despite herself, Solona smiled. “That’s sweet of you to say, Templar.”

         Cullen cleared his throat awkwardly and put a gauntlet to his forehead, as if to cool it down. “So is…is everything alright?”

         Solona pursed her lips. _I can’t tell him. He’s a Templar. He’d go straight to Greagoir, or even Irving…but I need to talk to someone about it._

         “Cullen…” she began hesitantly, “if you had a friend that you loved dearly, and who asked you to do something that would have dire consequences if it all went wrong…would you do as they asked?”

         Cullen frowned. “That depends on what they asked of me.”

         “What if…what if it could ruin your life? But theirs was in danger and only _you_ could help them? If they were relying on you so heavily…but without you…”

         “Is someone forcing you to do something?” he asked, concern thick in his voice. “You should tell Irving right away. I will go with you if—”

         “No, no!” she said quickly, standing up so they were level. “There’s no need to tell Irving!”

         “But if you feel this way, surely whatever your friend has asked of you, it cannot be good. You should report it.”

         “Forget I said anything,” she pleaded. “This is a problem _I_ have to solve. I don’t want any outside help.”

         Cullen shook his head. “If you’re in danger—”

         She put a hand on his armoured chest. It silenced him immediately. “Please,” she begged. “Don’t mention this to anyone. If I needed help, I would’ve asked.”

         His eyes lingered on the hand on his armour, before meeting hers. They locked together for a moment, everything else around them fizzling out of existence, until he broke away. “I cannot change your mind?”

         “I will be fine,” she insisted. “I can figure this out.” Putting on a brave face, she stepped back and walked away. The bravery instantly melted away as she almost collapsed behind a bookcase. _That was close. Way to close. I’m going to have to do this alone._

         She remembered that senior enchanter Leorah had put up a notice in the common areas requesting help with an unnamed task. _Perhaps she can help me get the rod._

         She found her in an empty classroom, tidying vials away into cupboards. “Hello,” she said as Solona walked inside. “Can I help you?”

         “I came about the notice you put up,” Solona replied.

         Leorah beamed. “Oh aren’t you precious! You’ve passed your Harrowing only hours ago and you already want to help me! Thank you!” She took Solona by the arm and led her over to a huge iron door behind her. “This is a stockroom built within a cave, but at the moment it’s inaccessible. We have a spider infestation, you see. I would have dealt with them myself but…I was only promoted to Senior Enchanter a fortnight ago, and I wouldn’t want to seem incompetent because of spiders getting into the stores I am in charge of. You know how it is.”

         “So you need someone to deal with the spiders?”

         “And there is no better candidate! You’ve defeated demons in the Fade, so this should be a piece of cake! What do you say?”

         “I guess… It sounds easy enough.”

         “It is! And if you do this, I will owe you a big favour!”

         Solona smiled. _A favour, eh? Perhaps you can help me after all_.

         Leorah pulled open the heavy iron door, the sound of ancient hinges creaking filling the classroom. “Here we are!” She pushed Solona inside with a hand on her back. “Show those spiders who’s boss! But don’t damage anything!”

***

Solona emerged from the caves, shivering and covered in webs that clung to her robes and hair. _I am never doing anything like that ever again_ , she swore. _Never_.

         Leorah was waiting on the other side for her. “Is it done—oh you poor dear!”

         Solona shut the door behind her and fell back against it, pushing the pieces of web out of her face. “Yes, it’s done.”

         “Let’s get that mess off you, shall we?” With a click of the senior enchanter’s fingers, the webs and bits of spider cuts vanished, as if she had never been down in the stockrooms. She still shivered, however, the cold of the caves having penetrated deep into her bones. _I need a nice warm fire to sit beside and not move for at least several hours._

         “I owe you one!”

         _Yes, you do._ “Perhaps I could get that favour from you now?” she asked. “I need a rod of fire, but I need permission to get one.”

         Leorah’s face crinkled with concern. “Whatever would you need one of those for?”

         “Research,” Solona answered innocently.

         Leorah chuckled. “You are an eager one! Want to get ahead whilst you can, eh? Well, who am I to deny your enthusiasm.” She pulled out a piece of paper and signed it. “Here is a permission slip. Take this to Owain and he should get you whatever you need.”

         Solona grinned. “Thank you!” Before the senior enchanter could change her mind, Solona raced out of the room towards the stockroom.

***

Owain stood at the entrance to the stockroom, his face as lifeless and blank as ever. “Welcome to the Circle’s stockroom of magical items,” he said, his voice a drone. “My name is Owain. How may I assist you?”

         The poor man had no personality, no emotion. It made her think of what Jowan would be like as a tranquil. He would not feel fear or anger…but he would not feel _anything_. To be numb, emotionless…cut off from the Fade, without dreams… She could not let that happen to her friend.

         “Hi, Owain!” she said, as innocently as possible. “I need a rod of fire.”

         “You need a permission slip for such a magical item.”

         Solona rummaged around in her pockets. “I have one…here!” She handed it over.

         Owain studied it carefully, before giving a confirming nod. “Everything seems to be in order. I will go and get one for you. Wait here.” The tranquil disappeared for a few moments before returning with the rod. “Here you are.”

         “Thank you!” She grasped it tightly and slipped it inside her robes before walking away. If no one saw it, no one could ask questions.

         She scurried along the hall, avoiding the eyes of everyone in her path. But then an authoritative voice called out her name, freezing her. She turned to see she was passing the First Enchanter’s quarters, and Irving was inside. He gestured for her to come in. Hesitantly, she did.

         “Yes, First Enchanter?” she asked, plastering a smile on her face.

         “I trust you showed Duncan to his room?” he asked, and she nodded. “Good. He is an honourable man. I am glad you met him.”

         She said nothing in reply, only nodded again. The rod of fire burned in her robes, as if it were on fire. She clutched at her body so that it would not fall out. Irving must have noticed something was off, because he asked, “Is there something you wish to talk to me about, child?”

         She swallowed. _Do I tell him?_ Something about the way he looked at her made her think he may have known something. He watched her expectantly, as if waiting for her to reveal all.

         “W-When is Jowan going through the Harrowing?” she asked.

         “When he is ready,” Irving said curtly.

         “But he fears that he is going to be made tranquil.”

         “And how does he know this? I suppose the young initiate he dallies about with revealed it to him.”

         Solona held in a gasp. _How does he know that?_

         “You think I did not know?” said Irving, an amused smile on his face. “I did not become First Enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears shut.”

         “So…so it’s true?”

         Irving sighed. “I’m afraid it is. Greagoir says he has proof—and eyewitness testimony—that Jowan has been practicing blood magic. I cannot say more.”

         Solona spluttered at the accusation. “What? That’s not true! Jowan is no blood mage! There must be a mistake or…”

         “Were it up to me, things might have been different. But the Chantry…” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, child. This Rite of Tranquillity will happen.”

         She looked away as tears welled in her eyes. _Lily was telling the truth. He’s going to be made tranquil._

         “I’m sorry,” said Irving, “but it must be done. It’s not such a bad thing. Jowan will come to terms with it, as will you.”

         “How can you say that?” she snapped. “It’s not such a bad thing? Jowan won’t be _Jowan_ anymore! He’ll be like a soulless vessel. He won’t laugh or cry or dream. He’ll no longer be my friend!”

         Irving pursed his lips. “I hope that one day, you will see it from my side.”

         Fearing what she may say if she stayed any longer, she stormed out of the room, making sure to slam the door closed behind her.

         _I have to help him, before it’s too late._

        

_Cullen_

_I don’t like the way she looked when I questioned her_.

         He sat in the Templar quarters on a sofa, his mind racing. Solona had looked troubled, _deeply_ troubled. Something was eating her up from the inside. He had been determined to find out what, but she resisted him.

          _Did I say something wrong? Should I have done something differently?_

         He sighed heavily, leaning back against the cushions. _I just wanted to help. Perhaps…something may have come from it_. He shook his head at himself. _What a stupid thought. She’s a mage, I’m a Templar. Nothing could come of this stupid infatuation._ Yet he could not stop thinking about her. She was his first thought in the morning and the last at night before bed. She consumed his mind all day, every day.

         _Oh, Solona Amell,_ _why can’t I just tell you how I feel?_

         The sound of stifled sobs echoing from the empty corridor outside brought his thoughts back to the present. He leapt up from the sofa and peered out of the door. A flash of black hair whooshed past him along the corridor. _Solona_.

         “Hey! Wait!” he called, chasing after her. “Solona!”

         She stopped at her name, quickly wiping her eyes with the back of a sleeve, but made sure to keep one hand on her stomach, which he overlooked for the moment.

         “Are you alright?” he asked as he finally caught up with her. “You’re crying.”

         “Yes, thanks for stating the obvious,” she snapped.

         Cullen flinched at her rudeness.

         “I have somewhere to be. If you’ll excuse me.” She tried to move past him, but he stopped her.

         “What happened?” he asked. “Something or someone must have—”

         “Keep your big nose out of this, Templar!” she screamed and pushed him back with a hard shove to his chest. But her hand had left her stomach, and something clunked to the floor beneath her robes. Her blue eyes widened in a panic. She quickly scooped something that looked like a rod from beneath her robe and clutched it to her chest. “I’m fine, just, leave me alone!” she said, before almost running down the corridor.

         _I have a bad feeling about this_ , Cullen thought as he stared after her, unsure whether to follow the urge to chase her again. _Something is wrong._


	8. Chapter 8

_8 – Solona_

Solona met Lily and Jowan beside the repository, down in the basement away from prying eyes.

         “Thank goodness you’re here,” Jowan greeted her with a smile. Solona could not return it, however. Her stomach was fluttering as if filled with thousands of butterflies. “Lily and I have unlocked this door,” he said, gesturing to the one they stood in front of. “We just needed a password and for it to feel the touch of mana.”

         “The next one will not be so easy,” said Lily. “Let us proceed.”

         They slipped through the door and closed it behind them so their presence would go unnoticed. “Did you get the rod?” Jowan asked.

         “I did,” Solona replied, pulling it out of her robes. She readied it in her hand and waved it at the door. Solona prepared herself for a surge of fire to explode from the rod…

         But nothing happened.

         “No!” Lily cried. “If we can’t get in, we’re finished!”

         Solona tucked the rod away on a belt around her waist and raised a hand towards the door. “Maybe I can cast a spell to make it open?” She willed herself to command fire of her own…but again, nothing happened. She felt cold and numb. It was as if…

         “We can’t use magic!” Jowan moaned, staring at his hands. “The Templars must have done this!”

         “How do you keep mages away from something?” said Lily. “Take away their powers.”

         Solona paced up and down the corridor as Lily and Jowan worried over how they were going to follow through their plan. Then she spotted another door further along the wall. “Lily, where does this lead?”

         “I don’t know,” she replied, standing beside her to look at it for herself. “It could be another way in.”

         “That door probably leads to another part of the repository,” said Jowan. “What are the chances of there being another entrance?”

         Solona shrugged. “It’s worth a try. Better than standing here waiting to get caught.” She marched over to the door and pulled out the rod. _Please work, please work_. She waved the rod at the locks. Fire erupted from the tip and shot into the locks, melting them away as if they were liquid. The door creaked open.

         The sound of armour moving made Solona jump. Thinking the Templars had found them, she turned, ready for a fight, but a Templar was not the one standing behind them. An armoured sentinel stood ready and posed to fight, drawing their weapon. Jowan and Solona took it down easily with their magic, able to cast again now they were away from the previous door. Jowan cast an ice spell towards it, freezing it in place. Solona then summoned a chunk of rock and threw it at the sentinel, smashing it to pieces.

         But as they stepped through the door, more and more sentinels appeared. “Looks like we must fight our way through!” said Lily, readying two hidden daggers that she kept beneath her robe.

         _Someone is not as innocent as they seem,_ Solona realised.

         They fought their way through the armoured sentinels until they reached a room covered in dust and cobwebs. Many forgotten-looking and ancient artefacts were scattered about the room, along with bookshelves filled with books that Solona was itching to read. _I bet there’s lots of forbidden information in those!_ But she forced herself to continue on, ignoring the urge to scoop up a couple of books that she could read in private later.

         Jowan stopped in front of an old bookcase. “Solona! Lily! Over here!” he called. “I think I see a weak part of the wall behind this old case. Maybe if we broke through, it would lead to the phylactery chamber!”

         “It’s as good a plan as any,” said Solona.

         Standing either side of the case, the mages picked it up and moved it away from the wall. Jowan was right about the wall looking weak. It looked as though water had eroded away a lot of its structure.

         Jowan rushed off to the other side of the room before returning with a statue of an old dog. “I bet we can use this to help get through that wall,” he said, plonking it down on the floor in front of the wall. “It’s a Tevinter artefact. Amplifies spells. Saw it as we came in. It could work with the rod.”

         Solona nodded, taking out the rod again. She tapped the statue with it, and fire exploded from its mouth towards the door. The stone exploded back into a dark, hidden corridor. Cautiously, they followed it down some stairs and into a room filled with a strange, glowing aura. Magical energy was strong here. It tingled in Solona’s bones, making her shiver.

         The room had dozens of shelves, lined with little bottles that contained red liquid… Blood.

         Jowan raced past her. “There’s mine!” he cried. “My phylactery!” He picked it up, a small bottle with his blood inside. “I can’t believe this tiny vial stands between me and freedom.” He extended his arm, holding the vial out in the air away from him. “So fragile,” he whispered. “So easy just to be rid of it…to end its hold over me…” He opened his fingers, and the vial dropped. Blood splattered across the stone floor, along with several bits of glass.

         Jowan smiled. “And I am free.”

         “Can we leave now?” said Solona, hugging herself with her arms. Although the deed had been done, she could not feel the happiness Jowan clearly did. They were not out of this yet. They still needed to return to the tower unnoticed. “I don’t want to be here a moment longer.”

         “Agreed,” said Lily. “Let’s go, Jowan.”

         The trio left the phylactery chamber and returned to the tower above.

         “We did it!” Jowan cheered. “I can’t believe it!” He threw himself onto Solona, wrapping his arms around her neck. “Thank you! We could never have—”

         “So, what Templar Cullen said was true, Irving.” Knight-Commander Greagoir, First Enchanter Irving, and several Templars blocked their exit. “An initiate conspiring with a blood mage. I’m disappointed, Lily.” The Knight-Commander approached Lily, studying her. “She seems shocked, but fully in control of her own mind. Not a thrall of the blood mage, then.” He sighed. “You were right too, Irving. The initiate has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished.”

         Then the older Templar’s eyes fell upon Solona. “And this one, newly a mage and already flouting the rules of the Circle.”

         Irving looked at her with sad eyes. “I’m disappointed in you. You could have told me what you knew of this plan, but you didn’t. If Templar Cullen had not come to me with his concerns—”

         She looked past the old mage at the Templars standing behind them, blocking their exit with their blades at the ready. One in particular caught her eye. One that made her heart race, at the same time, made her chest swell with anger. Cullen failed to look her in the eye.

         “You!” she hissed. “What did you tell them?”

         “I was concerned about you,” he mumbled. “I had no idea you were doing something like this.”

         “You don’t care for the mages!” Jowan shouted at Irving. “You just bow to the Chantry’s every whim!”

         Solona grabbed hold of his arm. “Jowan! Don’t make it worse!”

         “Enough!” Greagoir boomed. “As Knight-Commander of the Templars here assembled, I sentence this blood mage to death. This initiate has scorned the Chantry and her vows. Take her to Aeonar.”

         “T-The mages’ prison?” Lily stuttered. “No…please, no. Not there!”

         “NO!” Jowan roared, stepping in front of Lily. “I won’t let you touch her!” He whipped out a small blade from up his sleeve and cut open his palm. Blood gushed out of the wound, spilling to the floor…then it swarmed around him like an eerie red glow. A great force of magic rushed out of his palms towards Greagoir, Irving, Cullen, and the rest of the Templars, knocking them to the ground, unconscious.

         It was as though someone had slapped her. Jowan turned to look at her triumphantly. His eyes glowed the same colour as the blood. Solona backed away, shaking her head in disbelief. “Jowan…you’re…the rumours were…no!”

         “By the Maker!” Lily screamed. “Blood magic! H-How could you? You said you never…”

         Jowan’s smile was wiped clean from his face. “I-I admit, I…I dabbled! I thought it would make me a better mage!”

         Lily backed away beside Solona, their pair watching him in horror. Blood splattered his robes, revealing who he truly was.

         “Blood magic is evil, Jowan!” said Solona. “It corrupts people, changes them!”

          Jowan looked to both women pleadingly, eyes as big as a puppy’s. “I’m going to give it up. All magic. I just want to be with you, Lily. Please, come with me…”

         But Lily continued to back away, muttering, “I trusted you…”

         Jowan looked to Solona. “You’re still on my side, right? Solona? I’m still me! The guy who defended you from those Templars who bullied you! Who helped you settle in here when you were new!”

         Solona’s eyes stung as tears rolled freely down her cheeks. A pain shot through her chest. It was as though Jowan had taken the knife in his hand and stabbed her through the back. “The Jowan I know would _never_ have used blood magic,” she sobbed. “I sacrificed everything I worked for to help you! And after all this time…you betray me like this? By using _blood magic?_ ” She stood beside Lily. “I don’t know you anymore.”

         Jowan looked close to tears himself. He took one look at Lily, then at Solona, before he fled.

         Irving, Greagoir, and the Templars began to stir on the ground beside them. Solona rushed over to Irving as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

         “Are you all right?” he asked, old eyes crinkling with worry. “Where’s Greagoir?”

         Greagoir groaned as he stumbled to his feet. “I knew it…blood magic. But to overcome so many…I never thought him capable of such power…”

         Solona spared a look towards Cullen. He seemed unharmed, just a little dazed, along with everyone else.

         “I can’t believe it,” Solona whispered. “Jowan lied to me.”

         “None of us expected this,” said Irving. “Greagoir, are you all right?”

         “As good as can be expected given the circumstances!” the Knight-Commander replied. “If you had let me act sooner, this would not have happened! Now we have a blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down!” He whirled round until his glare settled on Lily. “You helped a blood mage! Look at all he’s hurt!”

         “Lily didn’t know he was a blood mage!” Solona cut in. “As I didn’t!”

         Lily gave her a weak smile. “You’ve been a friend, but you needn’t defend me any longer. Knight-Commander…I…I was wrong. I was accomplice to a…a blood mage. I will accept any punishment you see fit. Even…even Aeonar.”

         “Get her out of my sight,” Greagoir growled. A pair of Templars removed her weapons and took hold of her by both arms, leading her away.

         Then he turned on Solona, who flinched under such an intense gaze. “And you. You know why the repository exists. Some artefacts—some magics—are locked away for a reason!”

         “Did you take anything important from the repository?” Irving asked.

         “No,” she insisted. “I took nothing.”

         “Your antics have made a mockery of this Circle!” Greagoir shouted. “Ah…what are we do to with you?”

         “I told you earlier, I had no idea he was a blood mage! I would never have helped him if I did!”

         “And you think this excuses you? You helped a blood mage escape! All our prevention methods for naught—because of you!”

         “Knight-Commander,” said a deep and smooth voice. One Solona had heard only hours before. “If I may… I am not only looking for mages to join the King’s army. I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens.” Everyone turned to see the Grey Warden, Duncan, stroll into the room. “Irving spoke highly of this mage, and I would like her to join the Warden ranks.”

         “Duncan,” said Irving, sternly, “this mage has assisted a maleficar, and shown a lack of regard for the Circle’s rules.”

         “She is a danger,” Greagoir agreed. “To all of us.”

         Solona gulped. _I’m in big trouble now_. She flicked between all the faces staring at her, their eyes boring into her skin like worms digging into the dirt.

         But Duncan stood his ground. “It is a rare person who risks all for a friend in need. I stand by my decision. I will recruit this mage.”

         “No!” Greagoir barked. “I refuse to let this go unpunished!”

         “I will gladly go with you,” said Solona to Duncan, her voice small. “If you will have me.”

         “Greagoir, mages are needed,” said Duncan. “This mage is needed. Worse things plague this world than blood mages—you know that.” He placed a strong hand on her shoulder. “I take this young mage under my wing and bear all responsibility for her actions.”

         She looked up at him with hope and thanks, eyes welling again. “Thank you,” she croaked.

         But Greagoir was unwilling to let this go. “A blood mage escapes, and his accomplice is not only unpunished, but is rewarded by becoming a Grey Warden! Are our rules nothing? Have we lost all authority over our mages? This does not bode well, Irving.”

         “Enough,” said the old mage with a wave of his hand. “We have no more say in this matter.

         An uneasy silence fell over the group. She met eyes with Cullen once again, who quickly looked away. Anger flashed through her like hot water through her veins…before she realised that she knew not what laid in store for her. She turned to Duncan and asked, “So, what happens now?”

         “We must make our way to Ostagar, where the King’s army is camped,” said Duncan. “You will be initiated there. I will explain more when the time comes.

         Solona nodded. _I’m finally leaving this place._ She looked apologetically to Irving. “For what it’s worth…I’m sorry,” she said. “And…thank you. For everything.”

         Behind him, Cullen shot her a sympathetic look, his eyes filled to the brim with guilt. She glared at him, silently cursing at him for his betrayal, before following Duncan out of the hall. “Come,” he said, “your new life awaits.”


	9. Chapter 9

_9 – Solona_

“We will be travelling to the South, through the Hinterlands to the ruin of Ostagar, on the edge of the Korcari Wilds. The King’s forces have clashed with the darkspawn several times, but Ostagar is where the bulk of the horde will show itself.”

         Solona nodded along numbly as the Grey Warden, Duncan, filled her in. They rode side by side on horseback along country roads, lined with trees, flowers, and shrubbery. Solona should have been excited to be out in the open world she had only dreamed and read about, but ever since she had left the tower, she had felt nothing. She may as well have been tranquil, if the tranquil only felt a deep sorrow.

         “There are only a few Grey Wardens within Ferelden at the moment, but all of us are there,” Duncan continued. They reached a set of gates and dismounted, walking along crumbling bridges and walkways, towards a camp in the distance. “The Blight must be stopped here and now. If it spreads to the North, Ferelden will fall.”

         They approached the edge of the camp inside the ruins, and at the entrance stood a tall man with golden blond hair long enough to touch his shoulders, pulled back from his extremely handsome face. His armour was ornate and expensive-looking, as if made for someone of nobility, or even royalty.

         “Ho there, Duncan!” he called, approaching the pair. The pair shook hands.

         “King Cailan!” said Duncan. “I didn’t expect—”

         “A royal welcome? I was beginning to worry you’d miss all the fun!”

         Duncan smirked. “Not if I could help it, your Majesty.”

         “Then I’ll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all!” said King Cailan, beaming. “Glorious! The other Wardens told me you’ve found a promising recruit. I take it this is she?”

         Solona froze as he turned to look at her. _I bet he captures all the women’s hearts_. She could not blame them. The man was _gorgeous_. But what concerned her was how to greet him. She had never met royalty before, let alone anyone outside the Circle. _Do I bow? Curtsy? Shake his hand?_

         “Allow me to introduce you, your Majesty,” said Duncan.

         Cailan laughed. “No need to be so formal, Duncan. We’ll be shedding blood together, after all.” He turned to Solona. “Ho there, friend! Might I know your name?”

         “I am Solona, your Majesty,” she answered. “Solona Amell.”

         Cailan continued to beam. “Pleased to meet you! The Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers, and I, for one, am glad to help them. I understand you hail from the Circle of Magi. I trust you have some spells to help us in the coming battle?”

         Although the man was of the highest status, way above a lowly mage like Solona on so many levels, his child-like enthusiasm and positivity put her at ease. She thought that a King should intimidate someone like her, but his good nature had the opposite effect. For the first time in days, she smiled.

         “I will do my best, of course.”

         “Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar. The Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks.”

         “You’re too kind, your Majesty.”

         “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies.”

         “Your uncle sends his greetings,” said Duncan, “and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week.”

         Cailan snorted. “Eamon just wants in on the glory. We’ve won three battles against these monsters and tomorrow should be no different. I’m not even sure this is a true Blight. There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, we’ve seen no sign of an archdemon.”

         “Disappointed, your Majesty?” said Duncan.

         “I’d hoped for a war like in the tales!” Cailin said dreamily. “A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god!” He sighed. “But I suppose this will have to do. I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens!” He turned on his heel and marched away with his escort of armoured guards.

         Solona stared after him in disbelief. _He was nothing like I expected…but I kind of like him._

         Duncan gestured for Solona to follow him, the same way King Cailan went. “Despite the victories so far, the darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day,” he said solemnly. “By now, they look to outnumber us. I know there is an archdemon behind this. But I cannot ask the King to act solely on my feeling.”

         “What would _you_ do, if given the chance?”

         “Wait for reinforcements,” Duncan said simply. “We sent a call out West to the Grey Wardens of Orlais, but it will be many days before they can join us. Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. We must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference. To that end, we should proceed with the joining ritual without delay.”

         _Ritual?_ She frowned. She knew of no ritual that Grey Wardens performed to join. But then again, little was known about the secretive order. _As long as it doesn’t involve blood, It’ll be fine_ , she told herself.

         “Feel free to explore the camp,” said Duncan. “All I ask is that you do not leave for the time being. There is another Grey Warden in the camp by the name of Alistair. When you are ready, seek him out and tell him it’s time to summon the other recruits. Until then, I have business to attend to. You may find me at the Grey Warden tent on the other side of this bridge, should you need to.” With a polite bow, he left Solona at the edge of the bridge and made his way across it.

        Solona took a moment to ready herself, taking a deep breath, before following after him.

      The camp was a lively place, filled with a variety of people and colourful tents. The two grandest tents were a golden one that towered over all those around it, and beside it stood a slightly smaller grey one. _Those must be the King and Teyrn’s tents_. Then there were colourful tents that were striped with different colours, plain ones, small ones, wide ones…tents as far as they eye could see. She ventured past the royal tents and looked right to see mages in a closed off area. Guarding them…were Templars.

         Her body tensed automatically at the sight of them. One of them, blond, reminded her of Cullen. Anger flooded her chest, her hands curling into fists. _Traitor_. But their eyes never left the mages, so they did not notice her as she picked up her pace to speed past them.

         Towards the back of the camp, there was a chorus of loud barks. A fenced off area contained several huge dogs with muscular bodies and large teeth that she overheard were called Mabaris. She took a peek inside one pen to see one looking up at her dopily, tongue flopping out of one side of his mouth. _Aren’t you a sweetie!_ she wanted to coo, but she was sure she would take that sentiment back if she saw them in action on the battlefield.

         Beside the dog pens were a group of warriors dressed in bronze and black armour, with war paint all over their faces. Ash warriors they claimed to be—not that Solona had to ask for that information. They proudly shouted it to whoever would listen.

         _What was I supposed to be doing again? Oh yes, finding someone called Alistair_.

         She explored the camp but saw no sign of a Grey Warden by the name of Alistair. She chewed on her lip. _Is he not here?_

         “Excuse me, young lady,” said an old and wise-sounding voice. “Are you lost? Can I help you?”

         Solona turned to see an older woman dressed in red Circle robes. Her hair was as white as snow, tied back from her hair loosely. Solona approached her.

         “What do we have here?” said the old mage. “I heard the new Grey Warden recruit was from the Circle. I don’t believe we’ve met, but I’ve certainly heard a lot about your talent. My name is Wynne, and I congratulate you on your Harrowing. Marvellous work, the Fade is a dangerous place.”

         “Thank you,” Solona said with a smile. Wynne expelled an aura of friendliness and warmth that put her at ease almost immediately, despite Templars patrolling nearby.

         “So, a Grey Warden…fighting alongside the King. Not too shabby for someone just out of apprenticeship. Irving must be proud.”

         Solona’s gut twisted with guilt. “Um…yes.”

         “Was there something I can help you with, dear? You looked a little lost. The camp is a big place though, so do not be too hard on yourself if you cannot find your way around.”

         “I’m looking for a Warden called Alistair. Duncan told me to find him.”

         Wynne pointed to a slope leading to another part of the ruins behind her. “He’s just through there, I believe.”

         With a grateful nod, Solona ventured in that direction. She followed the sound of two bickering voices coming from inside this part of the ruins.

         “What is it now? Haven’t Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?” said one man, dressed in red circle robes.

         The other held their hands up. “I simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage. She desires your presence.” He had short, golden brown hair with a handsome face that looked very similar to one she had seen only an hour or so ago on first arrival here. Very handsome, especially in his Grey Warden armour. Blue and silver, with a griffon plastered across his chest plate. _I wonder if I get one of those sets of armour._

         “What her Reverence ‘desires’ is if no concern to me! I am busy helping the Grey Wardens—by the King’s orders might I add!”

         The Grey Warden smirked. “Should I have asked her to write a note?” he asked innocently.

         The mage scowled. “Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!”

         “Yes…I was harassing _you_ by delivering a message.”

         “Your glibness does you no credit.”

         “Here I thought we were getting along so well! I was even going to name one of my children after you…the _grumpy one_.”

         “Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must! Get out of my way, fool!” he charged past the Grey Warden, deliberately bumping shoulders to make him stumble.

         The Grey Warden simply shook his head and smiled amusedly after the mage. “You know,” he said, and it took a moment before Solona realised he was speaking to her, “one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together. It’s like a party: we could stand in a circle and hold hands. _That_ would give the darkspawn something to think about!” He chuckled, smoothing out his short crop of messy hair. “Wait, we haven’t met, have we? I don’t suppose you happen to be another mage?”

         “I am.”

         He cocked his head to one side, like a confused puppy. “Really? You don’t look like a mage. Uh…that is…I mean…how interesting.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait, _I do_ know who you are. You’re Duncan’s new recruit, from the Circle of Magi.” He slapped a hand to his forehead. “I should have recognised you right away. I apologise.”

         “That’s okay, no offense taken.”

         “Good. You didn’t exactly catch me at my finest with the mage there. Allow me to introduce myself: I’m Alistair, the new Grey Warden, though I guess you knew that. As the junior member of the order, I’ll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining. Whenever you’re ready, let’s get back to Duncan. I imagine he’s eager to get things started.”

         He gestured for her to walk alongside her, and they strolled side by side back to where the tents were in search of Duncan’s. “So, I’m curious: Have you ever actually encountered darkspawn before?” Alistair asked.

         “I haven’t. Have you?”

         “When I fought my first one, I wasn’t prepared for how monstrous it was. I can’t say I’m looking forward to encountering another.”

         Solona chewed on her lip again. She was so distracted by all the tents and people here that she completely forgot that she was going to be fighting darkspawn for the rest of her life. She had never even seen one before, and by the sounds of it, she didn’t want to.

         “I’m sure you’ll be fine though,” said Alistair, noticing the concern on her face. “You mages face demons in the Fade as a part of your Harrowing. Darkspawn should be a piece of cake.”

         Solona turned to him. “You know of the Harrowing?”

         “I was once training to become a Templar, before I was recruited by Duncan six months ago. I’m the newest Grey Warden to the order. But I suppose that title will be taken away from me soon. Have you met the other two recruits? Ser Jory and Daveth I think their names are. Nice enough fellows. One’s from Highever. A little uptight but most Ser’s are. Daveth is all right though, sarcastic enough.”

         “So…I’m the only woman?”

         “Funny that. We don’t have many female Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is…”

         They reached Duncan’s tent, sitting behind a large campfire that Duncan was warming his hands beside. Two recruits stood with him. Solona guessed that the man wearing the fancy armour was Ser Jory. The other scruffy-looking recruit must have been Daveth. He looked like a troublemaker, with twitchy fingers that he could use for pickpocketing.

         “You found Alistair, did you?” said Duncan as the pair approached. “Good. I’ll assume you are ready to begin preparations. You four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit.”

         “And the second?” asked Solona. _I said I didn’t want blood to be a part of this ritual…_

         “There was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them. Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can.”

         Solona nodded as he spoke. “Find the archive and three vials of blood. Understood.”

         Duncan smiled at her proudly, before turning to Alistair. “Watch over your charges. Return quickly, and safely. May the Maker watch over your path. I will see you all when you return.”


	10. Chapter 10

_10 – Solona_

The Korcari Wilds. _Well, they got the ‘wild’ part right._

         Blood splattered her robes, covering her from head to toe. Some of it was hers, some of it was from Daveth, Ser Jory, or Alistair, but for the most part, the blood was black and foul. Darkspawn blood.

         The first time she saw one of the tainted creatures, nausea rose to the back of her throat. Her entire body jolted, as if lighting had been shot through her, electrifying her veins. She had never seen the face of death until it looked her in the eye, raising its jagged blade to cut her down.

         Alistair had jumped in and saved her as she stood still in shock at the vile creatures, using his blade to block the incoming darkspawn one. The clash of metal against metal brought her back to the present, and within seconds, magic charged to her palms and she unleashed it upon the beasts.

         They had also come across wild wolves that wanted to rip her limb from limb and chew on her bones. They had been easier to take out than the darkspawn. _I had believed the world outside the tower to be a safe haven, away from the dangers of the Templars and the Rite of Tranquility. Now…I’m starting to think I should have stayed in the Circle Tower._

         “There!” Alistair shouted ahead of her, pointing to a crumbling, old, stone ruin, covered in moss and overgrown grass. “That’s where the Grey Warden cache might be!” Solona, Ser Jory, and Daveth followed him as he raced inside.

         The ceiling had fallen away here, leaving the ruins open to the sunlight. It glared into Solona’s eyes, reflecting off something in the far corner of the ruins. She investigated it, following the source of the glare until she found a broken chest. Inside…nothing.

         “Well, well, what have we here?” said a woman’s voice.

         Everyone whirled round to see a woman slowly prancing down the stairs beside them with a smug look on her face. Her hair was raven black, like Solona’s, but where the mage kept hers long and loose, only tying back the front section to keep the hair from falling into her eyes, this woman had hers swept up into a wild bun. Her eyes studied them all, yellow, like a cat’s.

         “Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?” She stopped just in front of them. “What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?”

         The Warden recruits looked to one another, and then to Alistair, who shrugged. No one knew who this woman was, and clearly, from the suspicious look on Alistair’s face, this was not a part of their test.

         “Neither,” Solona answered, as everyone behind her seemed determined to stay silent. “The Grey Wardens once owned this tower.”

         “‘Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I have watched your progress for some time. ‘ _Where do they go_ , I wondered, _why are they here?_ ’ And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?”

         Alistair moved to stand beside her. “Don’t answer her,” he whispered. “She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby.”

         The woman’s smirk grew wider. “Ohh! You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?”

         Alistair frowned. “Yes, swooping is _bad_.”

         “She’s a Witch of the Wilds, she is!” Daveth hissed. “She’ll turn us into toads!”

         “Witch of the Wilds?” said the woman, moving a hand to her hip. “Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?” She looked to Solona. “You there. Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”

         “Solona,” she replied, “good to meet you.”

         The woman’s face twitched, as if she was not expecting such a response. “Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds! You may call me Morrigan. Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?”

         “Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them,” Alistair demanded.

         “I will not, for ‘twas not I who removed them! Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened.”

         “Then who moved them?” asked Solona.

         “‘Twas my mother, in fact. If you wish, I will take you to her. ‘Tis not far from here, and you may ask her for your papers, if you like.”

         Solona turned to Alistair for advice. “We _should_ get those treaties,” he replied, “but I dislike this…Morrigan’s sudden appearance. It’s too convenient.”

         “I say we go with her,” she put forward. “She could’ve attacked us by now, but she hasn’t.”

         “Follow me, then,” said Morrigan, “if it pleases you.”

        

Morrigan lead them through a swamp, their boots squelching through the mud and water. Solona stretched her arms out and touched the reeds sticking out of the water. They made the water ripple beneath them, sending little waves out ahead of her. It was beautiful, mesmerising, to someone who had no contact with wildlife.

         Eventually they arrived at a small hut at the edge of the swamp. Outside, an old and wizened woman appeared to be waiting for them.

         “Greetings, Mother,” said Morrigan. “I bring before you four Grey Wardens who—”

         “I see them, girl. Mmm. Much as I expected.” She had long grey hair that tousled around her face. Her eyes were yellow like Morrigan’s, with red lips and eyeshadow, no doubt made from the berries on bushes growing around the Wilds.

         Alistair snorted. “Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?”

         “You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one’s eyes tight, or open one’s arms wide…either way, one’s a fool!” Although she appeared to be an old and frail woman, she gave of an air of authority and strength that made the men stay where they were behind Solona. Her yellow eyes lingered on her, freezing Solona in place. “So much about you is uncertain…and yet I believe. Do? Why, it seems I do!”

         _What is she talking about?_ Something about her words touched her deep within her soul, but she did not know why. Before she could ask, the woman entered her hut, leaving everyone standing outside. She returned with a bundle of scrolls in her arms.

         “You came for your treaties, yes? And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these.”

         “You—” Alistair began, his voice raised. “Oh. You protected them?”

         “And why not? Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight’s threat is greater than they realise.”

         Everyone looked to Alistair, but he shrugged.

         “What do you mean?” Solona asked.

         “Either the threat is more, or they realise less,” the woman answered vaguely. “Or perhaps the threat is nothing! Or perhaps they realise nothing!” She cackled, sending a shiver through Solona’s bones. “Oh, do not mind me. You have what you came for! Well, girl,” she barked suddenly, turning on her daughter. “These are our guests!”

         Morrigan groaned. “Very well. I will show you out of the forest. If you will follow me.”


	11. Chapter 11

_11 – Solona_

“So, you return from the Wilds. Have you been successful?”

         Each of the three recruits standing around the campfire outside Duncan’s tent handed the Senior Grey Warden their vials of darkspawn blood. Alistair then handed over the scrolls they had obtained from the Wilds.

         “Excellent. I’ve had the Circle mages preparing. With the blood you’ve retrieved, we can begin the Joining immediately.”

         “Can you tell us about the Joining?” Solona asked, nervous about what it entailed. If it used blood, she could not imagine it being anything pleasant.

         Duncan gave her a rueful look. “I will not lie to you. We Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later.”

         _“_ Wait, are you saying this ritual could kill us?” she spluttered.

         “As could any darkspawn you might face in battle. You would not have been chosen, however, if I did not think you had a chance to survive.”

         _Is that supposed to be comforting? I don’t want to die!_ She wiped her sweaty palms on her dirty, blood-spattered robe.

         “Let us begin,” Duncan continued. “Alistair, take them to the old temple.”

         The three recruits followed Alistair into the part of Ostagar ruins that was mostly intact. The ceiling was nowhere to be found however, the moonlight painting everything a silvery grey. Statues of armoured men and women stood at the entrance, watching them as they entered.

         Duncan arrived shortly after, holding a large chalice, whose cup was larger than his head. “At last, we come to the Joining,” he said. His voice was low, however, sincere, as if speaking at a funeral. It did not bode well for Solona’s nerves. Her hands began to tremble as she faced the unknown, her knees threatening to buckle. “The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint.”

         “W-We’re going to drink the blood of those…those creatures?” Ser Jory beside her gasped. Solona was feeling the same way. _So that’s where the blood comes in._

         “As the first Grey Wardens did before us,” said Duncan, “as we did before you. _This_ is the source of our power, and our victory.”

         Alistair continued for him. “Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the archdemon.”

         Solona’s breathing became ragged. _Those who survive?_ _Maker…I might die. I might actually die!_ She swallowed hard, pushing down the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her. “L-Let’s get on with it, then,” she said, her voice shaking as she tried to project confidence, and failed.

         “We speak a few words prior to the Joining,” said Duncan. “Alistair, if you would?”

         Alistair nodded, before bowing his head. “Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day, we shall join you.”

         Duncan held the cup out to Daveth. The rogue nodded his thanks and put the cup to his lips, drinking the tainted blood. For a moment, nothing happened. He handed the cup back to Duncan and studied himself, as if he were expecting to turn green or sprout several extra limbs…

         His body twitched violently. A scream erupted from his lips as he fell to the ground, clutching at his throat, wheezing as if he could not breathe… Then he went still, and did not move again.

         “Maker’s breath!” Ser Jory yelled, backing away. Solona simply watched, horrified, but unable to move. Fear rooted her to the ground. _He didn’t make it._

         Duncan sighed. “I am sorry, Daveth.” He did not linger on the body in front of him for long, turning next to Ser Jory. “You next, ser.”

         Jory shook his head, backing away. “But…I have a wife. A child! Had I known…”

         Duncan’s usually calm expression warped into a glare. “There is no turning back.”

         Jory drew his blade. “No! You ask too much! There is no glory in this!”

         Duncan slowly put down the cup, his eyes never leaving Jory. In a flash he had whipped out a dagger from his back harness. Jory blocked his first blow, but for an older gentleman, Duncan was _fast_. He disarmed Jory with a flick of his dagger, and as the blade fell to the ground, Duncan thrust his other dagger deep into the recruit’s chest.

         His voice became solemn. “I am sorry, Jory,” he said, pulling out the blade. Ser Jory fell dead at his feet.

         Solona’s mouth fell open in horror. She covered it with her hands, holding back a scream. _He just killed him!_ It took every ounce of strength within her not to turn and run, to flee to safety. _I have to do this,_ she told herself. _I don’t have a choice. Drink and maybe die, or run and definitely die. I’ll take my chance with the drink._

         Duncan calmly picked up the goblet and handed it to Solona. “You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good.”

         Hesitantly, feeling as though she had little choice, she took it. The dark blood sloshed in the cup as her hands trembled. She looked to Alistair and Duncan, who gave her an encouraging nod. She took a deep breath and before she could think too much on it, she put the cup to her lips and parted her mouth. The liquid oozed into her mouth, and almost spat it out as it touched her tongue. It tasted vile, wrong. Rotten and old, black and mouldy. If evil had a taste, this would be it. She forced herself to swallow, and closed her eyes, waiting for death that surely waited for her.

         Her blood felt as though it was on fire, bubbling inside her veins. She screamed as a pain shot through her head, her hands flying up to clutch at it. Her eyes clouded over, blocking out Alistair, Jory, and the ruins around them. A vision of a mighty, tainted dragon pierced her mind, its roar hurting her ears as if she were standing before it.

         “From this moment forth,” she heard Duncan say distantly, “you are a Grey Warden.”

         Her legs finally buckled from beneath her and she fell backwards. Alistair caught her before her head could hit the ground. Everything went dark, the vision fading, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

 ***

Solona opened her eyes to see Alistair and Duncan staring down at her. “It is finished,” said Duncan. “Welcome.”

         Solona sat up, her head spinning slightly. She looked down at herself as Daveth had, curious. Nothing had changed. She felt exactly the same as she had before, if not startled and a little nauseous. _That was worse than the Harrowing_ , she thought. _I’d do it ten times over before doing_ this _again._

         Alistair held out a hand and helped her to her feet. He had to keep a hand around her waist as her knees trembled.

         “Take some time,” said Duncan, grasping her shoulder firmly. “When you are ready, I’d like you to accompany me to a meeting with the King. He has requested your presence specifically.”

         Alistair led her to Duncan’s tent, where a set of Grey Warden Mage armour sat on his bed. “Your armour,” said Alistair. “You’re officially one of us.”

         Solona reached out and held it in her hands. It was a lighter version of Alistair’s Warrior armour. Light, silver chainmail lined the torso and shoulders. The cloth of the arms, and trousers was a silky navy blue. Just above where her heart would be sat a small griffon. It was prettier than anything Solona had ever seen. She was used to ugly robes that hid every part of the body apart from one’s hands and head.

         Alistair left the tent so she could take all the time she needed. Spotting a bowl of water sitting on top of a table, she removed her robe and scrubbed her body clean of blood and dirt from the Korcari Wilds. Then she slipped the armour on. It fit like a glove, hugging her body all in the right places. Brown leather gloves covered her hands and matching boots sat on her feet. Looking down at herself, she swelled with pride. It was as though the armour had given her strength and confidence. She was no longer trembling, scared, or anxious. She puffed herself out as she admired her new look in a mirror also left on the bed. The only thing that remained unchanged was her hair. It reminded her of her life in the Circle—her _old_ life.

         She held the mirror up in the air and let it go, using her magic to hold it up, hovering in front of her. With her right hand, she made a cutting motion. A ripping sound filled her ears, before her head felt much lighter. A waterfall of black locks of hair settled around her feet. Her eyes returned to the mirror. Her black hair now sat gently on her shoulders, where it had previously sat way below her hips. She ran a hand through it, the hair ending much sooner than she was used to.

         _This is me now. I’m no longer Solona Amell, the Circle Mage. I’m Solona Amell, the Grey Warden._

         Alistair returned, his eyes widening at the hair on the floor around her. She turned to face him with a smile. “Tell Duncan…I’m ready now.”


	12. Chapter 12

_12 – Solona_

King Cailan and Loghain Mac Tir were stood around a long table in a quiet part of the ruins. Duncan and Solona joined them as they squabbled amongst one another.

         “My decision is final, Loghain! I will stand by the Grey Wardens in this assault.”

         Loghain shook his head, rubbing his temples with his fingers. “You risk too much, Cailan. The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines.”

         “If that’s the case, perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to join us, after all.”

         A flash of anger and pain crossed Loghain’s face. “I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the _Orlesians_ to defend ourselves!”

         “It is not a ‘fool notion’. Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past…and you will remember who is king.”

         Loghain snarled. “How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century!”

         “Then our current forces will have to suffice, won’t they?” Cailan finally noticed the two wardens standing on the other side of the table. “Duncan, are your men ready for battle?”

         Duncan bowed. “They are, your Majesty.”

         The King’s eyes settled on Solona. “And this is the recruit I met earlier on the road?” He smiled at her as he admired her armour. “Look at you! Don’t you look the part! I understand congratulations are in order.”

         Solona returned his smile. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

         “Every Grey Warden is needed now. You should be honoured to join their ranks.” There was a tinge of sadness, and even jealously, in his voice, his smile slipping slightly.

         “Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan,” Loghain growled. “We must attend to reality.”

         “Fine,” Cailan grunted. Speak your strategy then.”

         Loghain, Cailan and Duncan debated the plan of action for almost an hour until eventually, everything was set. King Cailan and the Grey Wardens would draw the darkspawn into charging their lines, and then the Tower of Ishal in the ruins would be alerted to light the beacon, signalling Loghain’s men to charge from cover, flanking the darkspawn.

         “Alistair and Solona can make sure the beacon is lit,” said Cailan, looking to her. “We need our best to do such an important job.”

        _Lighting a beacon? That sounds like a lot of responsibility…_ But she held herself tall, and nodded like a solider. “I’ll do my best, your Majesty.”

         Cailan beamed, but Loghain shifted uncomfortably. “You rely on these Grey Wardens too much. Is that truly wise?”

         Cailan waved away Loghain’s concerns, a dreamy look returning to his face. “I cannot wait for that glorious moment! The Grey Wardens battle beside the King of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil!”

         “Yes, Cailan,” Loghain muttered, walking away. “A glorious moment for us all…”

        ***

Lightning rumbled across the black sky above them, as Alistair and Solona stood at one end of the gorge, overlooking the battle taking place below them. The air was thick with grunts and shrieks, screams and roars. Swords clashing, maces bashing, shields clunking. It was a buzz of noise that filled the air. Solona could barely hear herself think.

         A fireball shot over the gorge, narrowly missing the pair of Wardens. They stumbled backwards, Alistair completely falling over. She quickly helped him to his feet. “We need to get to the other side of the gorge!” she shouted over the fighting.

         They ran across the gorge lined with men manning trebuchets, firing large bolts down into the darkspawn below. Another fireball shot towards the gorge. This time it connected, sending a shockwave towards them. Solona whipped out her staff and summoned a magical, glowing shield, blocking her and Alistair from the blow. The shield took the brunt of the wave and fizzled out before it could reach them.

         They continued on their path, through a set of gates and up towards the tower’s entrance. On their arrival however, it was not as peaceful as they had expected.

         Two of the King’s men ran towards them. “Grey Wardens!” one yelled. “The tower…it’s been taken! Darkspawn came up through the lower chambers! They’re everywhere! Most of our men our dead!”

         “We need to get to that beacon,” said Alistair, “and light it, quickly.”

         With a nod of agreement, Solona shot up the stairs leading to the tower’s entrance, Alistair right behind her.

         She could already hear screaming and fighting from inside before she had even pushed open the old doors. They hit her like a ton of bricks as the doors opened with a groan. Darkspawn slayed the last of the men inside, their bodies bloody and broken on the ground. Alistair readied his blade, and Solona whipped out her staff, summoning a cold spell, before they charged into the darkspawn.

 ***

Floors and floors of the creatures later, they reached the top. Solona’s new Grey Warden armour was unrecognisable, covered in black ichor. She breathed through her mouth so not to smell the stench of darkspawn blood that threatened to make her vomit. Her body ached as her endless spellcasting drained her mana and energy, but she gritted her teeth and fought through it, defending Alistair’s back as he sliced through a group of darkspawn with his sword, casting fire spells to hold them back.

         “There wasn’t supposed to be any resistance here!” Alistair grunted, blocking a blow from a darkspawn mace.

         “It’s too late to worry about that now!” Solona replied, casting a healing spell on him to heal a nasty gash on his leg. “We’re almost there! Teyrn Loghain is waiting for the signal!”

         Once Alistair had defeated the last darkspawn, Solona rushed forward and threw open the door to the top level. Alistair charged in behind her, but slammed into her back as she froze at the sight before her. A gigantic ogre was chewing on bloody bones in the centre of the room, large teeth easily snapping through them. _I hope those aren’t human bones…_

         It noticed their presence, turning round to roar at them excitedly, blood and saliva spraying from its mouth. It was the final enemy standing between them and the signal fire.

         Solona grinned. _This will be easy! All I have to do is throw a fire spell into the signal fire and—_

         She screamed as a huge chunk of stone flew towards her. She managed to throw up a shield spell just in time, the stone bouncing off of it. The sheer force of the throw however knocked her off balance and she stumbled backwards.

         The creature was extremely strong. It resisted most of Solona’s spells that she threw at it. Ice, fire, electricity, stone…everything. Alistair hacked and slashed at its legs, dodging its blows from its gigantic arms that swung around like huge maces. If its hands got a grip on you, it could crush you to death.

         “Distract it!” he cried, holding up his shield as the creature drew a giant fist down upon him. “Make it look at you!”

         _That’s the last thing I want!_ she thought, making sure to stay as far away from it as possible. She summoned ice to her hands once again and threw it at the creature’s head, freezing over its eyes and ears. It roared, the sound muted by the ice encasing its head. It’s attention finally away from Alistair, he took a running start, ditching his shield, and jumped up into the air towards the creature, his blade pointing at its chest. The sword sunk in deep, going through its heart, stopping it dead. Its arms stopped flailing about, trying to get the ice off its head, and fell down limply. Alistair jumped back and ripped out his blade as the ogre fell to the ground, the stone floor rumbling with its impact.

         “Quick, Solona! Light the beacon!”

         Solona summoned flames to her hands and threw it at the signal fire. It burst to life, more desperately than she had intended, but they had done it. The fire was lit.

         Alistair whooped, and Solona grinned. “We did it!” he said, and embraced her. “We—”

         The doors behind them shot open. Darkspawn swarmed inside, armed to the teeth with bows and arrows. A volley shot towards them, quicker than Solona or Alistair could react to pick up his shield or cast a spell.

         Pain shot through her shoulder as an arrow pierced it. She stumbled back as yet another, and another shot into her body. Her back hit the floor, eyes rolling into the back of her head as the edges of her vision darkened, swallowing her whole.

***

 “Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased.”

         Solona stared up at a thatched roof, no idea where she was or what had happened. _One minute I was in the tower, and now…_ “Where am I?” she groaned, sitting up on a creaky bed. Her armour had been removed, leaving only her small clothes. She immediately grabbed the blanket covering her legs and pulled it around her exposed body. “Morrigan? Is that you? The girl from the Wilds?”

         The young woman with raven black hair pulled back into a messy bun and startlingly yellow eyes nodded back to her. “So, you remember me.”

         “W-What happened? How did I get…here? Wherever ‘here’ is…”

         Morrigan cocked her head to one side. “You do not remember? Mother rescued you.”

         “Then…I am grateful. But, what happened to the army? To the king? Did we win?”

         “The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend Alistair...he is not taking it well.”

         Her heart dropped into her stomach, breath catching in her throat. “Loghain…left the battle? He and his men didn’t fight? He left the king and his army to…oh, Maker.” She ran a hand through her hair as she came to terms with what had happened. _Everyone dead…that means Duncan…and Cailan…the army, the Wardens…all dead._

          “Your friend is outside by the fire. Mother asked to see you when you awoke.” Morrigan pointed to a chair on the far side of the tiny hut. “I cleaned up your armour for you. Mended the holes too. ‘Tis as good as new.”

         Solona nodded her thanks, unable to speak, overcome with shock. Morrigan left her to dress. She slipped on her armour, back to its original blue and silver colour. Her staff was propped up against the wall beside the chair. She attached it to her back harness and left the hut after Morrigan, eager to see if Alistair was okay.

         He was stood at the edge of the marsh, looking out through the reeds at the open water. Morrigan’s mother stood beside him. “See?” she said. “Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man.”

         Alistair turned to see Solona walk towards him. “You…you’re alive!” he croaked, his voice raw, eyes red. _He must have been crying_. “I thought you were dead for sure.”

         “I’m glad to see you’re okay too,” she said, patting his arm. “We’re both okay.”

         Alistair hung his head. “Duncan’s dead. The Grey Wardens, even the King… They’re all _dead_. If it wasn’t for Morrigan’s mother, _we’d_ be dead on top of that tower.”

         “Do not talk about me as if I were not here, lad,” Morrigan’s mother snapped. “The Chasind call me Flemeth.” She moved to stand beside both Wardens. “It has always been the Grey Wardens’ duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn’t looking?”

         “The land is hardly united,” said Solona, “thanks to Loghain.”

         Alistair shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense! Why would he do it?”

         “Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmanoeuvre,” said Flemeth. “Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat.”

         “The archdemon.”

         “Then we need to find it,” said Solona, setting her jaw in determination. “To stop it.”

         “By ourselves?” said Alistair. “No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half-dozen nations at his back. Not to mention…” He looked away. “I…I don’t know how.”

         “Have the Wardens no allies these days?” Flemeth asked innocently, though she watched Solona and Alistair expectantly.

         “I…I don’t know!” Alistair spluttered. “Duncan said that the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called. And Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely. He was Cailan’s uncle.” A flicker of hope sparked in his eyes. “I know him. He’s a good man, respected in the Landsmeet. Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!”

         “But even with an army…he may not be enough to help,” said Solona, pondering things over. “Surely there are other allies we could call on?”

         Alistair slapped a hand to his forehead. “Of course! The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages, and other places! They’re obligated to help us during a Blight!

         Flemeth smirked. “I may be old…but this sounds like an army to me.”

         “So, we could go to Redcliffe and these other places and…build an army!”

         Solona nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what we’ll do. We’ll avenge the death of Cailan, and Duncan, and all the Grey Wardens and the king’s army that died, build ourselves an army and defeat the Blight!”

         Alistair smiled for the first time that day. “Yes…yes, we can do this. We _will_ do this!”

         Flemeth offered Morrigan to join them on their quest, as payment for their lives. Alistair objected, but Solona agreed. Flemeth had saved their lives. Given them a chance to avenge those who died. It would have been insulting not to. Besides, Morrigan was not so bad, and she was another helping hand in their quest.

         Solona expressed her thanks to Flemeth for saving her and Alistair one last time, before they followed Morrigan towards the edge of the Wilds, where they would begin their quest to stop the Blight, and save Ferelden.


	13. Chapter 13

_13 – Cullen_

Cullen’s entire body was on edge, the sheer mass of mages in one room together making him anxious. He kept a _very_ tight grip on his sword as he stood in on a meeting that had been called together by the Senior Enchanters and First Enchanter Irving. Cullen and a handful of Templars had been tasked to oversee that the meeting went smoothly. It was going anything _but_ smoothly, however. They been arguing back and forth for almost an hour, without any means of bringing this to a close.

         The mages sat around a large table together, with the First Enchanter at the head. “I strongly believe that Loghain is our man!” said a Senior Enchanter, his bald head shining in the candlelight. “He told me after Ostagar that he would reward the Circle’s support by granting us more freedom from the Chantry!”

         Murmurs of excitement and worry buzzed around the room. Cullen sighed. _This might take a while_. He let his mind drift for a moment or two. As usual, it went to _her_. _I wonder how she is…_ Solona had left a few weeks ago to join the Grey Wardens. _Did she survive? I’ve heard that the Grey Wardens are very picky with their recruits…_ He chewed on his lip as guilt swirled in his stomach. _She probably hates me now._ Cullen had gone straight to the First Enchanter after his encounter with her in the hallway, where he had found her crying and distressed. She was never rude, not to _him_ anyway. He had just wanted to make sure she was okay! The last thing he wanted was to have her kicked out of the Circle.

         An older woman shot out of her seat, eyes glowing with rage. “How dare you suggest we align with a traitor!” she shouted, bringing Cullen back to the present. He knew her as Wynne, a Senior Enchanter in the Circle. An elderly lady who expelled calm and wisdom, but not one to be trifled with. “He betrayed our king, Uldred! Cailan Therin is dead because of him! As are most of his army and the Grey Wardens! He does not deserve our help after such a treacherous act!”

         Cullen’s heart jolted. _The Grey Wardens died? Did Solona survive that?_

         “How can we trust a man who betrayed a _king_?” asked one mage. “If he is capable of such a betrayal, who says he would keep his word to us?”

         Wynne smiled in triumph as the room slowly turned on Uldred, taking her side. _If what she says is true, I agree with her,_ Cullen thought, not that his opinion mattered in this case. It was a mage problem, not his. _Loghain Mac Tir sounds like a traitor to me. The last thing Ferelden needs is a traitor with mages at his disposal._

         Uldred slammed his fist on the desk. Magical energy crackled around him. Cullen drew his blade slightly from its sheath in readiness. _I have a bad feeling about this._ Anxiety made his limbs tingle in anticipation as he watched the Senior Enchanter rise from his seat to meet Wynne, who was still standing. “Do you not want freedom?” he roared. “Freedom from these oppressive tyrants?” The mage pointed at the Templars scattered about the room. “You would rather stay here with these fools than be _free_?” Uldred shook his head in disbelief, before lowering his voice. “Loghain _had_ to abandon the King, to save his men from certain death. Why send in more men to die when he technically saved thousands of lives that day! I was there!”

         “As was I,” said Wynne, grief thick in her gentle voice. “There was nothing heroic in his actions, Uldred. You cannot explain them away.”

         Uldred looked to a handful of mages who nodded in response, rising from their chairs to join him at his side. The unease in Cullen’s stomach worsened, making his palms sweaty inside his gauntlets.

         “I see that there is no reasoning with you,” said Uldred, sadly. “I am wasting my time here. I will find another way to achieve what I want.” He turned and moved towards the door, but the Templars blocked his path.

         “You are not going anywhere, Uldred,” said Irving, finally speaking for the first time this meeting. “What you suggest is impossible, as is your leaving.”

         Uldred turned round to face the First Enchanter again, a wild look in his eyes. “Just try and stop me!” He ripped a sword out of a nearby Templar’s grasp and slashed at his hand, cutting it open. The air filled with darkness, alerting Cullen’s body that reacted in response. Uldred shot a mass of magic out of his palm towards the nearest mage, and a fight began.

         Cullen unsheathed his sword and leapt into the fight, attempting to slay the mages fighting alongside Uldred. But they too cut open their palms and shot deadly forces of magic towards them, keeping the Templars back.

         “Let us see who should _really_ be in charge here!” Uldred screamed, before cutting open his other hand. Blood oozed down his open arms as he chanted beneath his breath, closing his eyes. But whatever he was trying to do, his body started to shake. His eyes flew open and stopped chanting immediately, but it was too late. His body twisted in angles it should not have been in, writhing and squirming as he screamed. His eyes glowed purple…

         “ABOMINATION!” Cullen shouted. “Slay him!”

         The doors to the meeting room flew open, and several mages, including Wynne, sprinted out of the room in search of help. First Enchanter Irving went down beside Cullen, blood spirting from several wounds across his face and arms.

         “First Ench—”

         As Cullen knelt down beside him, a shriek pierced his ears. He looked up to see a Shade staring down at him, its long, elongated fingers closing round his throat. He gasped, dropping his sword in terror as he came face to face with the empty eyes of the creature that appeared to grin at his fear.

         Uldred cackled. “Today begins a new era for Ferelden’s Circle!” he cried. “Capture every Templar and mage you see! If they are not on our side…we will make them.” He swaggered over to Cullen, still in the Shade’s grasp, clutching at its hands. “As for you, young Templar,” Uldred purred, “you will regret the day you joined your Order. You will watch as I make them scream…”

***

Cullen squeezed his eyes shut. _No more, no more…no more, please…_ His hands clutched at his head, covering his ears to block out the screams. Countless cuts and bruises covered his aching body that throbbed with the tiniest movement. But Cullen did not care. He preferred the physical pain to the one in his head, threatening to break his sanity.

         “Cullen,” said a voice. A light, musical voice. One that haunted his dreams and his thoughts. “Open your eyes, Cullen.”

         Cullen shook his head. “No,” he moaned. “Please, go away.”

         He lay curled up on the ground, covered in his own blood. Uldred had made him watch several of his friends die. Tortured until they could scream no more. With his eyes closed, he could see them. Templar after Templar dying, screaming, crying, begging…

         But he would rather see that again than see… _her_.

         “Cullen,” the voice pressed gently. “It’s only me. I won’t hurt you.”

         Hating himself, he opened his eyes. Solona sat beside him on the ground, dressed in her blue and purple circle robes, black hair falling down her back.

         She smiled down at him sweetly. “See? It’s only me.”

         “You’re not real…” he whimpered. “You’ll go away in a minute.”

         Solona laughed. “No I won’t! I’m staying right here, with you.” Her hand stroked his head tenderly. “I’ll keep you company.”

         “Here? In this cell?” he yelled. He was encased in a magical purple prison, conjured by Uldred. He sat up, pain ripping through him, and pushed himself away from her, shuffling back across the floor. “Go away! You’re not her! You’re just…just a d-demon trying to get into my head!”

         His mind felt like a cracked pane of glass, threatening to shatter at the slightest touch. His breathing ragged, he held back a sob. “GO AWAY!” he screamed.

         Solona laughed again, but this time there was an edge to it. “Oh Cullen, you silly boy. This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t have feelings for me. You’ve let me crowd your thoughts…consume your very being. Don’t deny it!” She waggled a finger at him as he opened his mouth to protest. “That’s why I’m here. To remind you how awful of a Templar you are.” Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him vindictively. “You may have even caused _my_ death. You don’t know if I survived Ostagar! I might have died along with my new brethren. I wouldn’t have even become a Grey Warden if it wasn’t for you!”

         “No!” Cullen moaned. “You aren’t dead. You can’t be!”

         “How do you know? You may never know, stuck here inside this prison…alone…all your friends dead…your fellow Templars slain…no beautiful and delicate Solona Amell to comfort you, as you so dearly wish she could.”

         “GO AWAY!” Cullen screamed, eyes stinging with tears. “LEAVE ME! GO BACK TO THE FADE, YOU HEARTLESS DEMON!” He squeezed them shut again, blinking away the tears that freely rolled down his cheeks. When he opened them again, she was gone.

         Cullen screamed again, shouting up at the ceiling as he lay flat on his back, slamming his fists down beside him in frustration. He pulled himself to his feet and ran at the barrier. He hit it hard and stumbled backwards. “LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!” His fists pounded against the prison’s barrier, but it did not budge. It stayed magically in place, encasing him inside.

         Screams from the room beside him made him jump. He fell to the ground and moaned, covering his ears. “Maker, help me please...”


	14. Chapter 14

_14 – Solona_

The archdemon’s roars were so loud, they made her bones vibrate. She stood atop a mountain and watched as a tainted dragon commanded its evil army of darkspawn that had awakened it from its slumber many months ago, marching them through dark caverns to a destination unknown. The dragon reared its head, roared once more, before it turned and stared right into Solona’s very being…

         Solona woke with a gasp, her heart racing in her chest. Sweat decorated her brow. She wiped it away with the back of her sleeve as she sat up, pushing the hair out of her eyes that had become glued to her face. She had fallen asleep by the fire whilst warming herself, curled up on a blanket she had pulled around her.

         A wet nose pressed itself against her palm. Barkspawn, the Mabari from Ostagar that she had cured of the taint with the flower Andraste’s Grace, curled up beside her, his eyes looking up at her as if to assure her that she was okay. She patted his head gratefully.

         “Another bad dream?” Alistair asked from across the fire. He shuffled over to sit beside her.

         Solona nodded. “The dragon looked _right at me_.” She shuddered, pulling the blanket around herself for comfort.

         Alistair put his arm around her. “You need something to take your mind off it,” he said. “Why don’t we list everything we’ve done already, and what we need to do next?”

         “Boring, but okay.” Solona readied her fingers to count. “We’ve allied with the Dalish elves.” That had been exhausting. So much bloodshed and fighting. Everything had wanted to kill them. The elves, the werewolves, even the trees! But alas, they had gained an alliance with the elves, freeing the werewolves from their curse as a bonus.

         Zevran, sitting nearby with Leliana and Oghren, joined in. “We’ve allied with the dwarves,” he put forward, sharpening his blades. “A lot of fun that was. Endless tunnels of darkness and darkspawn, giant spiders, ogres, broodmothers…”

         “Yes, that was…” Leliana shuddered. “But at least we met Caradin, a famous Paragon. I bet no one alive can say that they met the great dwarven inventor, but we can! What a tale that was!”

         “So that leaves…the mages and this Arl Eamon fellow,” Oghren grunted. “So where’d we go from here?”

         “We need to visit the mages,” said Solona. It was something she was not looking forward to. Going back to the place she had left a few months ago was not something that filled her with joy. Her body trembled with dread whenever she thought of returning ‘home’. Too many memories were in that place, but for the sake of Ferelden, she had no choice. “We should head there at first light. Then when we have them on our side, we can go to Redcliffe to see Arl Eamon.”

         Alistair gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, sensing her unease. “We can do this,” he said. “You’ve led us this far. The finish line is so close now.”

         She gave him a smile in return. “I know,” she said. “I just…I didn’t leave the Circle on good terms. I’m afraid of what’ll happen when I show my face there again.”

         “But you won’t be returning as member of the Circle,” said Zevran. “You’ll be a Grey Warden! One branded as a traitor…but a Grey Warden no less!”

         Solona chuckled. “Thanks, Zev. I _have_ to go back there, whether I like it or not. Best get this over with.”

***

The party arrived at Lake Calenhad’s Docks a few days later. A harsh wind blew across the open water. Solona, Alistair, and Leliana huddled together in their cloaks for warmth as they trekked down the hill towards the docks.

         Across the water sat the tower, tall and intimidating beneath the moonlight. She had never seen it from the outside. It was easy to ignore it, so far out into the water, away from everything else. It also made her see how isolated she had been before now. Before, she had only dreamed of exploring the world. Now she had been from one side of Ferelden to the other, and even beneath it!

         _If the other mages could see me now!_

         They stopped as Solona frowned at the person manning the boat to get across the lake. _Why is a Templar there, and not old Kester?_

         “Hey! You!” called a voice.

         “Uh, I think that man is calling you,” said Leliana, tapping on Solona’s shoulder to get her attention. Leliana pointed to an old man sitting outside a tavern, his clothes tatty and his hair grey.

         “Kester!” Solona said with a smile, and approached him.

         “Well, look at this! I remember taking you across when you left with that fellow, Duncan. And now you’re a Grey Warden… my pap used to tell me stories about them.”

         “Why aren’t you manning the boat?”

         Kester shrugged. “Templars took it,” he said. “I don’t got a clue why. They wouldn’t tell me. Greagoir just came down, and said, ‘Don’t you worry, Kester. We got it all under control, we do.’ Didn’t say nothing else. Then he puts Carroll in charge of my boat. Lissie! Named for my grandmum, she was.”

         “Is there something wrong at the tower?” Alistair asked.

         Kester shrugged again. “They didn’t tell me nothing, sorry. But it’s got something to do with magic. But the tower’s always got something to do with magic.”

         “I guess we’ll have to talk to this ‘Carroll’ about getting across the lake,” said Leliana. “Thank you for your time, ser.”

         They strolled over to the docks, but a templar dressed head to toe in armour blocked their path. “You!” he said. “You’re not looking to get across to the tower, are you? Because I have strict orders not to let _anyone_ pass!”

         Solona puffed herself out. “I am a Grey Warden, and I seek the assistance of the mages.”

         Carroll snorted. “Really? Prove it.”

         Solona jerked back in surprise. Alistair and Leliana shared confused glances behind her. “Look at my armour,” she said, and pointed to the griffon on her chest. “What’s this?”

         “A…A griffon. A Grey Warden griffon.”

         “Would I be wearing this uniform if I wasn’t a Grey Warden? Especially when Loghain has made us all out to be traitors?”

         Carroll scratched the top of his head. “Uh…no.”

         “Well, that answers your question then, doesn’t it? Now, are you going to let me and my companions cross the lake, or stand there all day asking stupid questions?”

         With an apologetic look, he stood aside and allowed Solona, Alistair, and Leliana into the boat.

***

They pushed open two large iron doors and let themselves inside. They were quickly slammed just after them by two Templars that normally manned the doors. Templars were rushing about here and there, their armour splattered with blood and ichor. Ahead of her, Knight-Commander Greagoir was shouting out orders.

         “…and I want two men stationed within sight of the doors at all times. Do not open the doors without my express consent. Is that clear?”

         The Templars before him bowed. “Yes, ser.”

         “Greagoir?” said Solona as she walked over.

         Despite the chaos around him, Greagoir smiled. It might have been the first time he had ever looked at her in a way that was not sternly. “Well, look who’s back. A proper Grey Warden now, are we? Glad you’re not dead.”

         Solona laughed. “You’re truly happy that I’m alive?”

         “Perhaps,” he said vaguely, before his usual scowl returned. “Now we’re dealing with a situation that doesn’t involve you, _Grey Warden_.”

         “This was my home. I want to know what happened here.”

         Greagoir sighed wearily. “I shall speak plainly: The tower is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the tower’s halls.” He shook his head. “We were too complacent. First Jowan, now this.” The mention of her old friend send a jolt through Solona. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten your role in his escape.”

         Solona flinched. “I had no idea he was a blood mage! He tricked me as much as he did you! If I’d known, I would never have allowed myself to get involved with his plan.”

         “I can only hope that one day, Jowan gets what he deserves. But right now I have other pressing concerns.”

         Solona looked over his shoulder at the Templars running around in the entry hall. Usually, wherever Greagoir was, so was Irving. But the First Enchanter was nowhere to be seen. “Where is Irving?”

         Greagoir’s shoulders slacked. “We…we don’t know. We saw only demons, hunting Templars and mages alike. I realised we could not defeat them and told my men to flee.”

         “You abandoned everyone! You should’ve stayed to protect them! That’s your job!”

         “They took us by surprise,” Greagoir retorted. “We were prepared for one or two abominations—not the horde that fell upon us.”

         “Why don’t you rally the rest of your men _now_ and defeat them!”

         Greagoir snarled. “I would destroy the tower, raze it to the ground…but I cannot risk more of my men. The doors remain shut and they will protect us for now.”

         “You locked everyone in one room?” said Leliana. “Innocent mages too?”

         “Not just mages,” said Greagoir, “but my Templars also. I had no choice. The abominations must be contained at all costs.” He steeled his jaw. “We do not mean for the doors to stay closed forever. Everything in the tower must be eliminated, so I have sent word to Denerim, calling for reinforcements and the Right of Annulment.”

         “No,” Alistair gasped beside her.

         She turned to him, confused. “What is that?” she asked, having never heard of the phrase.

         “It was a term I learned whilst training to be a Templar,” Alistair replied. “The Right of Annulment gives Templars the authority to neutralize the mage Circle. Completely.”

         Her breath caught in her throat. “You would kill everyone in there?” she wheezed. “Every innocent life just to kill the few responsible?”

         “This situation is dire,” said Greagoir, unapologetically. “There is no alternative—everything in the tower must be destroyed so it can be made safe again.”

         “Some of those people may still be alive!” Leliana shouted, outraged.

         “If they are, the Maker Himself has shielded them. No one could have survived those monstrous creatures.” Greagoir looked away, his face contorted with emotion. “It is too painful to hope for survivors and find…nothing.”

         “But it was _you_ that shut them all in!”

         “And what was I to do? Let all the abominations pour out? The mages are lost, we must accept that.”

         Solona shook her head. “ _I_ won’t. I can’t let you get away with this Greagoir. I’d rather go inside and see for myself the damage you’ve caused.”

         “We’ll go too,” said Alistair, and Leliana nodded beside him.

         “If you do this,” said Greagoir, “if you cross the threshold, there is no turning back. The great doors must remain barred. I will open them for no one until I have proof that it is safe.”

         “What kind of proof?” said Alistair.

         “When the First Enchanter stands before me and tells me it is safe. If Irving has fallen…then the Circle is lost, and must be destroyed.”

         “Then so be it.” Solona marched past him towards the great doors, Alistair and Leliana on her tail. She glared at the two Templars standing guard either side of the grand doors and they opened them for her. The second she, Alistair, and Leliana had stepped through, they were shut behind them, closing with a loud bang that made the party jump.

         “Well, Greagoir wasn’t joking when he said there’s no going back,” said Alistair, nerves seeping into his voice.

         The party took two steps forward before they stopped dead, utterly shocked at what lay before them. Dead mages and Templars were scattered across the floor, blood splattered over the walls and floor.

         “Oh Maker…” said Leliana.

         “The apprentice quarters are just ahead,” said Solona, her voice breaking. She was _home_ , but it did not look like home. As she walked the corridor, covered in ichor and blood, bits of the walls missing and crumbling as if from a large impact. She darted into the first door on their right to see her old quarters completely destroyed. Beds were shattered into pieces, bodies lying in or around them. Solona moved from room to room, but it was the same inside each one. Death and chaos.

         “What’s through there?” said Alistair, pointing to another door directly ahead of them.

         “The main hall,” Solona answered, her voice empty, heart aching. She knew most of these people. Even if they did not speak, she knew of them. Knew them when they were walking around, casting spells, practicing to be a better mage… and now they lay dead on the ground, never to see the light of day again.

         Inside, mages rushed about, staffs in their hands or their palms lit with spells. An elderly mage stood firm in front of a barrier, poised to attack. In front of her, a fiery rage demon slipped through a magical ward placed in an archway. The mage summoned cold and thrust it towards the demon. It froze before shattering into a million pieces, scattering all over the floor.

         As the fighting ceased, the elderly mage turned round to reveal a familiar face.

         “Wynne!”

         “You?” she gasped. “You’ve returned to the tower? Why did the Templars let you through? Are you here to warn us?”

         “I came to see what was wrong with my old home.”

         Wynne smiled. “I see you still care about the Circle and our tower. Unfortunately, the Circle is in grave danger.”

         “Yes, from the Templars. They intend to annul the Circle.”

         Wynne tensed. “They…have the Right of Annulment?”

         “Greagoir expects it to arrive soon.”

         The old mage hung her head. “So Greagoir thinks the Circle is beyond hope. He probably assumes we are all dead.” She quickly righted herself, standing tall again as many mages looked to her. “They abandoned us to our fate,” she said, “but even trapped as we are, we have survived. If they invoke the Right, however, we will not be able to stand against them.”

         “Did Irving survive?” Solona asked, hopeful.

         “If anyone could survive this, it would be the First Enchanter. It was he who told me to look after the children. It’s...a long story.” Wynne gestured behind her. “I erected a barrier over the door leading to the rest of the tower, so nothing from inside could attack the children. You will not be able to enter the tower as long as the barrier holds, but I will dispel it if you join with me to save this Circle.”

         “Of course,” said Solona. “This is why we came, to help.”

         Wynne smiled again. “Once Greagoir sees that we have made the tower safe, I trust he will tell his men to back down. He is not unreasonable.”

         “Greagoir will only accept it if the first enchanter says so,” Alistair reminded her.

         “Then our path is laid out before us. We must save Irving.” Wynne turned to two mages behind her. “Petra, Kinnon…look after the others. I will be back soon.”


	15. Chapter 15

_15 – Solona_

Abominations and demons filled their path. Floor after floor they fought their way through, slaying all manner of beasts that dared to stand in their way. Hunger, Rage, Desire…none of them strong enough to stand against Alistair’s blade, Leliana’s bow, or Solona and Wynne’s magic.

         But what angered Solona most on their journey was not the demons or the abominations, nor the sloth demon that tried to trap them in the fade…but the blood mages. They reminded her of Jowan. Seemingly a friend, but it was only an act, for they dabbled in the dark art of blood magic—the worst kind of magic. She cut them down without mercy. Not staying a second longer than they had to, they left their bodies to rot on the cold, stone floor, along with those the blood mages had innocently slain.

         Finally, they reached the very top floor, a place Solona had only been once in her life. _The Harrowing Chamber._ The stairs leading up to it were covered in carnage, but that was not what shocked her. Inside a magical, glowing prison on his knees, praying, was none other than…

         “Cullen!” Solona rushed over to him. “Cullen, are you alright?” He looked worse for wear, battered and bruised, bleeding in several places. His eyes were red and raw, wide and crazed. Her heart unexpectedly ached at the sight of him. She pounded her fists against the magical barrier that was as solid as stone. “Cullen!”

         The young Templar finally looked up and noticed her. “This trick again?” he whimpered. “I know what you are. It won’t work. I will _stay strong_ …” He stayed on his knees and bowed his head.

         “Cullen? Don’t you recognise me?”

         “Only too well,” said Cullen, his head in his hands. “How far they must have delved into my thoughts…”

         “The boy is exhausted,” said Wynne. “And this cage…I’ve never seen anything like it.” She turned to Cullen. “Rest easy. Help is here.”

         “Enough visions!” Cullen shouted, tears streaming down his face. “If anything in you is human…kill me now, and stop this…t-this game!” His gauntleted hands dug into his scalp as he clutched onto his hair.

         Solona slid down the barrier and knelt before him, watching him sorrowfully. “Oh, Cullen…” she whispered, “what have they done to you…”

         “He’s delirious,” said Leliana. “He’s been tortured…and has probably been denied food and water. I can tell.”

         “Sifting through my thoughts…” Cullen muttered, “…tempting me with the one thing I always wanted but could never h-have…”

         Solona’s breath caught in her throat again. She stared at him, blinking. _What did he say?_

         “Using my shame against me…my ill-advised infatuation with her…a mage, of all things.”

         _He’s…he’s talking about me!_ “Cullen…” She placed a hand upon the barrier, though she desperately wanted to reach inside and hold him. “I’m so sorry.”

         “I am so _tired_ of these cruel jokes…” he sobbed, “these tricks…these…”

         “This is no trick!” she said, trying to reason with him. “We’re here to help.”

         “Silence!” he suddenly shouted, shooting to his feet. “I’ll not listen to anything you say. Now, be gone!” He slammed his fist against the barrier between them, forcing Solona back, and squeezed his eyes shut.

         His breathing ragged, he opened his eyes and glared at the party, but his features softened fearfully as they stayed where they were. “S-Still here? But that’s always worked before! I close my eyes, but you are still here when I open them!”

         “That’s because we’re real,” Solona said softly, slowly edging back to the barrier. “We’re here to help, Cullen. Surely, you can see that now.”

         “I am beyond caring what you think!” he barked. “The Maker knows my sin, and I pray he will forgive me.”

         Her chest tightened. “You think your feelings for me are…are a _sin_?”

         “It was the foolish fancy of a naïve boy,” he snarled. “I know better now.”

         Tears began to well in her eyes, but she held strong, clenching her hands into fists at her sides, steeling her jaw.

         “Why have you returned to the tower?” he asked. “How did you survive?”

         She cleared her throat as it threatened to break. “Greagoir told me what happened, and I had to help.”

         “Good…” A crazed look flashed across his face. “Kill Uldred. Kill _them_ _all_ for what they’ve done!” He sobbed, pushing loose blond curls out of his eyes. “They caged us like animals…looked for ways to break us. I’m…I-I’m the only one left… They turned some into… monsters. And… there was nothing I could do.”

         “You’re not at fault here, Templar,” said Wynne.

         “Don’t think I’m not grateful…but why should I live when my friends lie dead, their bodies and spirits broken?” He wiped his eyes clear of tears, his face hardening. “And to think, I once thought we were too hard on you.”

         “Cullen,” Solona began, gently, as he glared at her and her staff, like she was a demon herself, “do you know where Irving and the other mages are?”

         “They are in the Harrowing Chamber,” he said, pointing to the stairs leading up to it beside his prison. “The sounds coming out from there…oh, Maker…”

         “We must hurry,” said Wynne. “They are in grave danger. I am sure of it.”

         The party turned to approach the stairs, but Cullen shouted to stop them. “You can’t save them! You don’t know what they’ve become! You haven’t been up there! Been under their influence! They’ve been surrounded b-by blood mages whose wicked fingers snake into your mind and c-corrupt your thoughts!” His voice broke. “You have to end it, now, before it’s too late!”

         Solona shook her head at the idea. “I will not kill innocent mages.”

         “Are you really saving anyone by taking this risk?” he asked, exasperated. “To ensure this horror is ended…to guarantee that no abominations or blood mages live, you must kill everyone up there!”

         “No,” she said firmly. “That’s murder.”

         Cullen sighed. “That is your choice to make, but I beg you to consider what I have to say. You cannot tell maleficarum by sight. Just one could influence the mind of a king, of a grand cleric.”

         “I will not have the blood of innocents on my hands.”

         “I am just willing to see the painful truth, which you are content to ignore! But what can I do? I’m in no position to directly influence your actions, though I would love to deal with the mages myself.” Solona flinched at the glee in his eyes. “To cut them down so they cannot be a danger to anyone anymore.”

         _This isn’t the young man I knew before Ostagar._ It broke her heart to see him like this, bitter and angry…twisted. She hoped that once this was over, he would return to his old self.

         “My cage is Uldred’s doing…” he said. “Or one of his mages. Once they’re dead, I will be free.”

         “S-Stay safe, Cullen,” she said, backing away from the prison. “Maker watch over you.”

         “I hope your compassion hasn’t doomed us all,” he said, and returned to his kneeling position on the floor, hands together in prayer.

***

The Harrowing Chamber was filled with magical energy. It lit the room with an eerie blue glow that made Solona feel uneasy. It was not good magic that flowed in this room. The touch of it on her skin made her shudder.

         Uldred stood in the centre of the room with two twisted abominations. The held a cowering mage in place as Uldred forced a demon inside of him. His screamed pierced Solona’s ears and made her wince as they watched him transform into the beasts holding him. Another abomination. Irving and a group of mages were tied up at the side of the room, watching in horror.

         “Stop!” Solona cried.

         Uldred turned to face them, a smirk on his face. “Ah…look what we have here. I remember you. Irving’s star pupil. Uldred didn’t think much of you then, and I certainly don’t see your appeal now… I’m quite impressed you’re still alive. Unfortunately, that must mean you killed my servants. Ah, well, they’re probably better off dying in the service of their betters than living with the terrible responsibility of independence.”

         “You’re turning these people into abominations!”

         “And freeing them in the process! A mage is but the larval form of something greater. Your Chantry vilifies us, calls us abominations, when we have truly reached our full potential!” He pointed at Irving and the other mages tied up nearby. “Look at them! The Chantry has them convinced. They deny themselves the pleasure of becoming something glorious!”

         “You’re mad!” said Wynne. “There’s nothing glorious about what you’ve become, Uldred!”

         Uldred laughed. “Uldred? He is gone. I am Uldred and yet not Uldred. I am more than he was. I could give you this gift, Wynne. You and all mages. It would be so much easier if you just accepted it.” He strolled over to the First Enchanter, laying weakly on the ground. “Come say hello to your old apprentice, Irving!” Then he laughed. “Don’t mind the blood. He’s had a…hard day.”

         Wynne gasped in horror at the sight of him, bloody and broken, so frail and old. “What have you done to him?”

         Irving wheezed and coughed, his voice hoarse. “S-Stop him… He…is building an army. He will…destroy the Templars and—”

         Uldred waggled his finger at him. “You’re a sly little fox, Irving, telling on me like that! And here I thought he was starting to turn.”

         “N-Never!”

         “That’s enough out of you, Irving. He’ll serve me, eventually.” His gaze returned to Solona. “As will you. I have great plans for you, you see. Your raw potential, with the strength of a demon behind it, would be unstoppable. I can do that—I can give you power, and a new life.”

         Solona shook her head and readied her staff. “I think I’ll pass.” She pointed the tip at the Senior Enchanter and unleashed roaring flames, engulfing him. He screamed as the flames burnt his flesh, and around them, another fight began.

         Magic was thrown about the room, lighting the place with various colours. Flashes of white, purple, red, yellow, and green bounced from one end to the other. Solona stayed locked in a battle with Uldred, even as he warped into a hideous, purple pride demon. She used her magic to block his blows and lightning spells that he threw at her, and returned his magic with some of her own, showing shards of stone and casting fire to rain down upon him.

         She kept the images she had seen in the tower vivid in her mind, allowing her anger to fuel her. _Mages are dead because of him! Greagoir plans on annulling the Circle because of him! He tortured Cullen!_ The last thought made her bare her teeth, and with a loud cry she unleashed everything she had built up inside of her, until Uldred was nothing more than a pile of ash at her feet.

         She stumbled to her knees as her Mana drained, gasping, leaning on her staff for support. Around her, the fighting slowed, until all that was left was Blood Mage corpses and those tied up at the side of the room.

         Wynne rushed to her side as she spotted Solona clutching at her chest in an attempt to gain some Mana back. She put a wizened hand on her shoulder, and Solona instantly felt a boost in Health and Mana. She got to her feet, nodded gratefully at the old mage, and made her way over to Irving and the other mages to untie them.

         “Maker,” the First Enchanter grumbled as she untied the last of his bonds. “I’m too old for this.”

         “Irving, are you alright?” asked Wynne.

         “I’ve…ngh…been better,” he replied, clutching at his stomach. “But I am thankful to be alive. I suppose that is your doing, isn’t it, Wynne?”

         Wynne smiled at Solona. “I wasn’t alone. I had help.”

         Irving turned to her with a look of pride. “I was surprised to see you standing there. But I am glad you have returned. The Circle owes both of you a debt we will never be able to repay.” He started towards the door. “Come, the Templars await. We shall let them know that the tower is once again ours.” He stumbled, almost falling to his knees. Solona jumped to his side, slinging one of his arms over her shoulders. “I’ll need you to guide me down the stairs,” he said ruefully. “Ah…curse whoever insisted the Circle be housed in a _tower_.”

***

The party found Greagoir downstairs in the entrance hall with the surviving Templars. Relief flooded through Solona as she spotted Cullen standing nearby, free of his magical prison.

          “Irving?” said the Knight-Commander as he spotted the First Enchanter, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Maker’s breath, I did not expect to see you alive!”

         “It is over, Greagoir,” said Irving. “Uldred…is dead.”

         “Uldred tortured these mages,” said Cullen, “hoping to break their wills and turn them into abominations. We don’t know how many of them have turned.”

         “What?” said Irving. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

         “Of course he’ll say that! He might be a blood mage! Don’t you know what they did? I won’t let this happen again!” He pointed a finger at Solona. “Even _she_ could be one!”

         “I am the Knight-Commander here,” said Greagoir, cutting in, “not you.”

         “And what is your verdict?” Solona asked, avoiding Cullen’s intense glare that he shot her way.

         “We have won back the tower. I will accept Irving’s assurance that all is well.”

         “But they may have demons within them,” said Cullen, “lying dormant…lying in wait!”

         Solona shook her head at him. _What did they do to you?_

         “Enough!” said Greagoir. “I have already made my decision.” He turned to Solona. “Thank you. You have proven yourself a friend of both the Circle and the Templars. I promised you aid, but with the Circle restored, my duty is to watch the mages. _They_ are free to help you, however. Speak to them.”

         “From what Greagoir said,” said Irving, “it seems that you came here seeking allies. The least we can do is help you against the darkspawn. I would hate to survive this only to be overcome by the Blight.” Irving held out his hand. “You have my word, as First Enchanter, that the Circle will join the Grey Wardens in the fight.”

         Solona shook his hand. “Thank you.”

         “When the time comes, we will stand beside you.”


	16. Chapter 16

_16 – Cullen_

Cullen’s shoulders were up by his ears as tension made his body rigid as a pole. As he patrolled the destroyed corridors, his eyes flicked between every mage around him as they helped to clean up the mess that Uldred and his blood mage followers had left behind. Bodies needed to be burned and the hallways scrubbed cleaned.

         _If that’s what they’re_ really _doing._ He eyed every mage suspiciously, not allowing his guard to drop for even a second. _They could have demons lying dormant within them. Any one of them could be a blood mage! Pretending to be good, when really they’re just waiting to pull another stunt, like Uldred!_

         “What are you staring at!” he barked as a mage caught his eye. He whipped out his blade and pointed it at the woman’s throat. “Watching me, are you? Waiting until I turn my back to transform into a hideous abomination? Or to curse me from behind?”

         The woman squeaked in fear, shaking her head insistently. “N-No, ser!”

         “I have my eye on you! You don’t fool me.” Every mage in the corridor turned to stare at him. “I have my eye on _all_ of you!” he bellowed, swinging his sword around wildly. “Knight-Commander Greagoir may trust you, but _I_ don’t! Know that I know your secret! I’ll be ready for—”

         “Cullen!” boomed a commanding voice, silencing the young Templar immediately. Cullen turned to see his Knight-Commander storming down the corridor. “What is the meaning of this?”

         “How can you trust these people?” Cullen replied. “How can you let them walk around freely, when they could attack us at any minute? This one,” he pointed his blade at the mage beside him again, who had frozen in fright, “she’s a maleficar, I’m sure of it!”

         Greagoir looked at him with pity, and shook his head. “Cullen…may I have a word with you? In private, upstairs.”

         Cullen frowned. The Knight-Commander never asked to see a Templar in private unless they had done something very, _very_ wrong. “Y-Yes, ser.”

         Cullen sheathed his blade and followed Greagoir up to the Templar Quarters, and then along to his office at the very end of the corridor. He gestured for Cullen to step inside, and closed the door behind him. “Take a seat,” he said, pointing to a chair in front of a desk, which Greagoir sat behind.

         Cullen hesitantly sat down. “Have I done something wrong, ser?”

         Greagior sighed as he leant back in his chair. “Cullen…I know this must be difficult to discuss…but I must ask…what happened to you?”

         “What do you mean?”

         “You…You have changed, Rutherford. You are not the young Templar I knew when you first came to Kinlock Hold. I understand that you will feel slightly…well, _resentful_ towards mages for a while after such an incident, but this…this behaviour I am seeing from you…it is unacceptable. No matter what Uldred or his fanatic followers may have done to you, you cannot blame _all mages_ for—”

         “The hell I can!” Cullen blurted. “Mages are evil! They seek only to destroy us! You saw what they did, Knight-Commander. It’s been a week and we’re _still_ clearing out the bodies! Both mage and Templar!”

         “Cullen,” Greagoir began, carefully, “you cannot let this one experience rule your heart. Not all mages are like Uldred. Yes, many did turn to his side, but did you notice that there were just as many, maybe _more_ , that did not? Who stood against him?”

         The young Templar slammed his fist down on the table in outrage. “You cannot deny that they are monsters! Easily tempted to become abominations that could kill us all! They’re a threat to the world, more so than this Blight the Grey Wardens are supposedly fighting! And whilst we’re on that subject, how the hell are you allowing Irving to give mages freely to the Grey Wardens? They’ll be out there in the world, free to do whatever they like—to _kill_ whoever they like!”

         Greagoir shook his head at him. “Okay, Cullen. I see. Your mind cannot be changed on the matter.”

         “No, it cannot! No offense, ser, but you were not in the heart of the situation! You didn’t see what they did!” His voice broke as painful memories flashed before his eyes. “They killed my friends! Tortured them until they begged for death…and they did not even give them that. They became abominations…twisted creatures that they made torture the next Templar, and the next… A vicious cycle that wasn’t broken until I gathered the courage to try and stop them. And then because I struck out…because I stood against them…they tortured me harder than any man before! They broke into my mind and threw the things I loved at me before cruelly ripping them away! My injuries have barely healed! I will never be able to see mages in the same way again.” He leaned forward in his chair. “And do you know why? Because my eyes have been opened. I see them for what they truly are. _Monsters_. They should not be given any special treatment or treated equally. They are not like you and me, ser. They are demons before a demon has even invaded their bodies—”

         Greagoir raised a hand to silence him. “That’s enough, boy,” he told Cullen sternly. “I can see that what you went through…it has had a severe effect on you. You need time away from this place, as I suspected. Being here will not help you heal. Therefore, I will be writing to another Circle for you to be sent to in due time. I would send you now, but it is too dangerous out there to travel alone at this time, with a potential Blight on our hands.”

         “No!” Cullen cried. “I want to be here! To help control the mages that threaten to—”

         “No one here is going to hurt anyone!” Greagoir shouted. “I will overlook your outburst for now, as we are in private. But if I hear you spurting this nonsense to anyone but me, I will have you confined. Do you understand?”

         Cullen’s jaw fell open. _Greagoir is blind. He thinks just because Irving says it is safe, that it is. But he cannot see what I see._

         “I have taken you off of the patrolling rota for the next week or so,” said Greagoir. “Take the time to reflect and heal.” He rose from his chair and opened the door for Cullen. “Remember what I said, Cullen,” he warned as Cullen rose from his seat. “Do not let this rule your heart. You will hate yourself for it.”

         _I highly doubt that_ , he thought bitterly, and stormed past the commander without saying goodbye.


	17. Chapter 17

_17 – Solona_

“What’s on your mind?”

         Wynne’s soft voice roused Solona from deep thought as she stared into the flames. She sat outside her tent, body curled up into a ball with her knees against her chest. Wynne sat down beside her.

         “Something is troubling you.”

         Solona nodded. “I’m worried about someone—the Templar, Cullen.”

         “The boy in the magical prison we found outside the Harrowing Chamber?”

         “He must have gone through so much…he looked awful when we saw him. But what he said…the things he believes now…I just cannot…I mean I…” She sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve always known him to be kind and softly spoken. He’s never said a bad word to me in his life, even when I…when I shouted at him one time. He never retaliated.”

         “He was tortured at the hands of Uldred,” said Wynne, grabbing a blanket to pull around her shoulders. “Going through something like that will change a person, and not always for the better. Sometimes, hardships make us stronger. Other times…they make us weaker, either in body or mind. Your Templar friend—”

         “He’s not my friend,” Solona blurted. “Not anymore, at least. He’s made that very clear.” All she could think about was how Cullen had looked at her. Before, his hazel eyes would sparkle at her. He blushed and stumbled over his words—now of course she knew why. He had feelings for her…or _used_ to anyway. He had told her how that had been a _sin_. Something wrong and evil.

         When he had looked at her that last time, it was full of spite, mistrust. He looked at her as one would look at a person who had murdered thirty people in a public area and then proceeded to deny it, or a spit of demon ichor on the bottom of one’s boot. Beneath him, worthless, evil. She shuddered at the memory.

         _Is that how he sees me now? As a demon? A creature that just wants to hurt people?_

         “It’s true, the boy’s views are…extreme,” said Wynne, “but you must understand what he has been through. He will likely view mages in the same way that you view darkspawn for some time. I am sure Greagoir will help him ease back into normality. Give him time.”

         Solona hung her head. “Maybe if we’d visited the Circle first instead of the Dalish and Dwarves…”

         Wynne narrowed her eyes. “Do not think that way, young lady. You cannot change the past. You can only mould the future. What happens to Cullen is down to him, and the Maker. I only hope that he will return to the sweet young man he was before.”

          “As do I.”

***

“Only one place left!” said Solona as they trekked through a valley, the hillsides towering over them either side. “Redcliffe, to see Arl Eamon.”

         “It’d better be the last place!” Alistair huffed as he followed, lagging behind in his heavy armour, face flushed red with effort. “I don’t think I’ll make it to another one!”

         Solona stifled a giggle as she led the way down a hillside towards a windmill, marking Redcliffe town. But, as their luck would have it, they were faced with yet another trial. They were met by a young man at the bridge leading into town, warning them of an attack at nightfall on the small town, breathless and scared. Solona held in an eye roll. _Another problem? Why are none of these alliances simple matters?_

         “I’ll take you to Bann Teagan! Follow me, please!”

         Solona, Alistair, Leliana, and Wynne followed the man across the bridge and down steep paths towards the village Chantry. Inside, gloom and despair hit them like a ton of bricks. The air was thick with sorrow, many people grieving over lost ones, or helping those on the brink of death, injured beyond repair. Frightened people huddled together in groups, or before the alter and priests at the back of the room.

         Bann Teagan was a handsome man, with slicked-back brown hair and a small beard to match. He looked odd, dressed in fancy attire, yet with a sword and shield harnessed on his back. A braid tucked itself behind his ear. It fell out as he spun round to greet the newcomers—he tucked it back into place.

         “Greetings, Friends. I am Bann Teagan, brother to Arl Eamon. Can I ask who you are and why you’ve come?”

         “We’re Grey Wardens,” said Alistair. “She and I are anyway.” He gestured to Solona with his thumb. “And this is Sister Leliana from Lothering and Wynne from the Circle of Magi. I was hoping you might—”

         “Alistair? Is that you? The last time I saw you, you were covered in mud!”

         “We’re here to speak to Eamon.”

         Teagan sighed wearily. He was clearly a man put under a lot of pressure. Solona could see the strain in his posture as his shoulders were tense and square, as if always ready to jump to action at the slightest notion of danger. “Eamon is gravely ill. No one has heard from the castle in days. No guards patrol the walls, and no one has responded to my shouts.” He looked past the group as a little girl wailed loudly, her leg bleeding. “The attacks started a few nights ago. _Evil_ things surged from the castle. We drove them back but many perished during the assault.”

         “What evil things?”

         “Some call them the _walking dead_ —decomposing corpses returning to life with a hunger for human flesh. They hit again the next night… Each night they come with greater numbers. With Cailan dead and Loghain starting a war over a throne, no one responds to my urgent calls for help. I have a feeling that tonight’s assault will be the worst yet.” He stepped forward, lowering his voice so that those around them could not hear the desperation leaking from it. “I’m asking you, please…help us. Help Eamon.”

         “Of course we’ll help!” said Leliana, and then turned to Solona. “We will, won’t we?”

         “Yes, of course,” Solona assured her. “Teagan, we will lend you our aid in any way we can.”

         Wynne smiled behind her. “I knew you would not let these innocent people suffer.”

         “We can help Eamon once the town is safe,” said Alistair.

         Teagan smiled, probably for the first time in days. “Thank you! This means more to me than you can guess. Now then, there is much to do before nightfall. There are two men in charge outside, Ser Perth who is up the hill watching the castle, and Murdock in the centre amongst the people. Speak to them about the upcoming battle.”

         “Okay, let’s go,” said Solona. “I shall see you later, My Lord.” She bowed to the Arl before turning on her heel and marching outside, desperate to leave the place whose despair and hopelessness was beginning to choke her.

***

The Blacksmith swayed, Dwight convinced, and Ser Perth’s men encouraged. Solona walked through the centre of town, where most of the towns folk were preparing for the battle that was almost upon them. The sun slowly set, limiting how much time was left before the inevitable fight began.

         They waited until the stars sparked in the night sky, hidden occasionally by passing clouds. Silence fell over them all as they stood their ground at the edge of the village, waiting for the dead men to come. The sound of many pairs of feet running across the bridge from the castle filled the air, dust clouds forming as they kicked up dirt beneath their dragging feet.

         “Get to your positions!” Murdock shouted as panic spread. “Do not let them reach the Chantry!” Swords were unsheathed, arrows were knocked against bows, and Solona and Wynne readied themselves, charging their magic. Within seconds, the undead men were upon them.

         Solona threw a fireball into the pit of oil that the creatures started to pass. Flames roared and grew monstrously large as her magical flames came into contact with the oil and the creatures. They screeched like scared birds or cats, the sound making Solona wince. But the oil and fire only kept them back for so long, allowing the men behind her and her party to regain themselves and to not let fear rule their hearts. Eventually they charged through the flames, running towards them, alight with fire.

         The fight seemed never-ending. Solona quickly began to tire from the sheer number of dead. Whenever she killed one, another was there to take its place. To her left, Alistair was covered in blood, his armour no longer shiny and clean. Wynne was beside her at the back of the crowd, along with Leliana, fighting from a distance. But there were plenty of stragglers that broke free of the group to attack them. Each time it happened, Solona had to stop aiding others and defend herself, Wynne, and Leliana, and each time it meant more people had no protection, and more were slain.

         “I don’t know how much more of this I can take!” Alistair shouted from somewhere within the crowd. “I can’t—” He grunted loudly, as if he had been hurt, and Solona spotted a figure go down, surrounded by dead men.

         “Alistair!” She left her post beside Wynne and Leliana and rushed into the fighting crowd outside the Chantry—probably the worst thing for her as a mage to do. But Alistair had had her back many times in the past, and she was not going to let him die if she could help it. She summoned a gust of wind and thrust it forward at the undead men leaning over Alistair, their blades poised, ready to kill. They flew backwards as the air blasted into their bodies, slamming them to the ground.

         “Are you alright?” she asked, hoisting him to his feet.

         “F-Fine,” he groaned, holding his side. “It’s j-just a scratch, I’m sure.”

         Solona was not the best at healing spells—that was Wynne’s job. _I’ll have to have her teach me if we survive this._ Nevertheless, she cast a protective shield around them with her staff and placed her free hand on his chest, healing his wound. “Hold still,” she told him, “and keep an eye out.”

         “You’re going to drain yourself,” he complained, leaning weakly on his sword shoved into the ground. “You’ll not be able to fight.”

         Sure enough, he was telling the truth. As he grew stronger, she grew weaker. Her knees began to shake, threatening to give out from beneath her. She gritted her teeth and willed herself to stay strong. She yanked her hand away from Alistair just in time as a blade broke through her shield that had begun to fizzle away. Grasping her staff with both hands she blocked the blade that swung towards her head. Sending a leg into the creature’s stomach—or ribcage, since half its body had rotted away—it stumbled back. Twirling the staff around her head, she whacked it in the creature’s skull, sending it rolling across the ground.

         “Get back with Wynne and Leliana!” Alistair shouted, holding up his shield as a creature bashed into him. But Solona and Alistair were in the centre of it all, with no clear path to retreat.

         “Looks like I’m staying here!” she replied, releasing flames from her palms to keep a group of undead back from a cowering townsman.

         Slowly but surely, the fighting died out. Staying back to back with her fellow Grey Warden, they managed to survive with only a few nicks and scratches here and there. Cheers erupted from the survivors, and Solona could not help but join in, even as exhaustion made her limbs feel as heavy as led.

         She looked up at the sky. It was no longer an inky black. The colours of dawn crept into the sky, signalling the rise of the sun. _We’ve been fighting for hours!_

         Bann Teagan stumbled over, a bloody wound across his hand, but he was smiling widely. “Gather round, everyone! To the Chantry!”

         The survivors gathered together outside the building, with the Bann dragging Solona and her party to the steps facing everyone as he prepared to speak.

         “Dawn arrives,” he began, “and we survived the night. We are victorious!” Cheers erupted from the crowd. “And though this victory came at great cost, we must remember that none of us would be here were it not for the heroism of these good folk beside me!” He patted Solona’s shoulder. All eyes turned to her, and she flushed a shade of pink.

         He turned to her and said, “I thank you, my lady. Truly the Maker smiled on us when he sent you here in our darkest hour.”

         Alistair leaned forward and whispered, “You’re looking a little pink,” teasingly in her ear.

         She sent an elbow into his side, where his armour did not cover him. “It was no trouble,” she replied to the Bann, hoping that those standing further away could not see the embarrassment she felt at being the centre of attention.

         “With the Maker’s favour,” said Teagan addressing the crowd, “the blow we delivered today is enough for me to enter the castle and seek out your Arl. Be wary, and watch for signs of renewed attack. We shall return with news as soon as we are able.” He lowered his voice as he turned to Solona and her party. “Now, we’ve no time to waste. Meet me at the Mill. We’ll talk further there.”


	18. Chapter 18

_18 – Solona_

The plan was set, and Leliana, Solona, Alistair, and Wynne watched as Bann Teagan followed Lady Isolde back to Redcliffe castle alone. Solona felt uneasy about the idea, but the Bann had been adamant. He told them of a secret passage leading up to the castle that they could use, and so the party made their way through the old mill and into dark, spider web-infested tunnels.

         They found their way into the dungeons beneath the castle, the place cold and damp. Solona shivered, hugging her body with her arms. They ventured down a corridor, lined either side with cells—some empty, some filled with prisoners who begged them to be released. They were mostly empty, however.

         “You know, I locked myself in a cell once,” Alistair said absentmindedly as they walked past cell after cell, “as a child. Ah…youth.”

         Solona snorted at him. “That does not surprise me _at all_ , Alist—”

         A foreign voice said, “H-Hello? Is someone there?”

         It startled the party, causing them to whip out their weapons.

         “Hello?”

         Something about the voice made Solona’s heart thud harder. She recognised that voice…it was one she had not heard for many months…almost a year.

         Solona stopped dead outside a cell, inside which was a person she thought never to see again.

         “By all that’s holy… _you!_ I can’t believe it!” The man inside dressed in tattered mage robes rushed up to the cell, his hands gripping the bars.

         “J-Jowan?” she wheezed.

         He grinned. “Maker’s breath! How did you get here? I never thought I’d see you again, of all people.”

         Her breath caught in her throat, tears welling in her eyes. _Not you, anyone but you…_ Isolde had mentioned that a mage had poisoned her husband, Arl Eamon. A mage that had been imprisoned in their dungeons…

         “So you’re the mage Lady Isolde mentioned,” said Wynne, as Solona found it difficult to speak.

         “You’ve spoken with her?” His smile faded. “Then you know I…poisoned Arl Eamon.”

         “It had to be _you_ , didn’t it?” Solona snarled. “Of all the blood mages in the world, it had to be you!” She turned away from him, unable to bear the guilt on his face.

         “You know this man?” Leliana asked gently.

         Solona nodded. “We were both apprentices in the Circle. We are—we _were_ friends.”

         “The Arl is not dead,” said Wynne. “Not yet at least.”

         “He’s not?” said Jowan, before he blew air out of puffed cheeks. “That’s a relief. I can’t tell you how much.” His eyes fell on Solona, who refused to look at him still, her arms folded across her chest as anger surged through her at the sight of her old friend. “Please, I know how it seems. Poisoning the Arl was a terrible thing. But I’m not behind everything else in here I swear!” He looked desperately at his old friend, pressing his body against the bars as if to be closer to her. “Before I say anything else, I need to ask you a question. You can do whatever you want to me later, but I must know… What became of Lily? They didn’t hurt her, did they? The thought that she might have paid for _my_ crime…”

         Solona sniffed. “She wasn’t the only one to pay for _your crime_ ,” she said. “The Chantry sent her away. I don’t know where.”

         Jowan moaned, holding his head in his hands. “Oh my poor Lily! She must hate me now, if she even lives. W-What have I done?”

         “A stupid, terrible thing,” she growled, hands twitching at her sides. It was clear that grief ruled Jowan’s heart at that moment, but Solona did not care. She might have cared once, when they were friends back in the Circle tower. But he had betrayed her, as he had betrayed Lily. “You cost her everything, you’re now a criminal, and I’m a Grey Warden. All because of _you_.”

         Jowan hung his head. “For what it’s worth…I’m sorry. I never meant for you to get in trouble. I never meant for… _this_.”

         “How did you even end up here, involved in this?”

         “I…I know it looks suspicious, but I’m not responsible for the creatures and the killings in the castle! I was already imprisoned when all that began! First Lady Isolde came here with her men, demanding that I reverse what I’d done. I thought she meant my poisoning of the Arl. That the first I heard about the walking corpses. She thought I’d summoned a demon to torment her family and destroy Redcliffe!”

         “I’m not surprised she thought that,” said Solona. “Considering you’re a _blood mage_ and all.”

         A distant flicker of pain flashed in his eyes. “She had me tortured. There was nothing I could do or say that would appease her.” It was then that Solona finally looked at him properly. Specs of blood were splattered across his face and robes, which were ripped and torn in several places. A bruise sat beneath his right cheekbone, and a cut ran along his jaw. “So they left me to rot.”

         “Why did you poison the Arl?” asked Alistair, anger dripping in his voice. The Arl was someone dear to him, and the fact that his almost-killer stood before them was obviously a difficult thing for him.

         “I was instructed to by Teyrn Loghain. I was told that Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden. That if I dealt with him, Loghain would settle matters with the Circle. All I wanted was to be able to return. But he abandoned me here, didn’t he?” He held back a sob as he backed away from the bars. “Everything’s fallen apart… I never thought it would end like this. Maker, I’ve made so many mistakes… I’ve disappointed so many people. I wish I could go back and fix it! I just want to make everything right again!”

         “Why’d you listen to Teyrn Loghain, of all people?” asked Solona.

         “Why wouldn’t I? I was desperate, and this is _Teyrn Loghain_ we’re talking about, for Andraste’s sake! Why wouldn’t I believe him?”

         “I almost feel sorry for you,” she said bitterly. “Maybe I’d feel more compassion if you weren’t a _blood mage_ who betrayed me and your lover because you were _desperate_! Desperation doesn’t excuse you, Jowan! It didn’t excuse you then, and it doesn’t excuse you now!”

         “At least let me explain what I was doing here,” he begged. “Connor had started to show… _signs_. Lady Isolde was terrified that the Circle of Magi would take him away for training.”

         “Connor, a mage?” said Alistair. “I can’t believe it.”

         “She sought an apostate,” Jowan continued, “a mage outside the Circle to teach her son in secret so he could learn to hide his talent. Her husband had no idea.”

         Solona furrowed her brow in thought. “Then perhaps her son is responsible for what happened here.”

         “I thought that too. Connor has little knowledge of magic, but he may have done something to tear open the veil. With the veil to the fade torn, spirits and demons could infiltrate the castle. Powerful ones could kill and create those walking corpses.”

         “How much magic did you teach him?” she asked. “None of your blood magic I hope.”

         “Only some—normal magic I mean, not…you know. But he’s only young and can barely cast a minor spell, never mind something more powerful. At least, not intentionally. He may have torn the veil accidentally. If he’s involved in this, I really don’t know.”

         “I see.”

         “The Arl’s a decent man. I wondered how he could possibly be the threat Loghain said he was, but I did it anyway.” He shook his head. “I’m such a _fool_.”

         Solona silently scolded herself as guilt and pity swelled inside her as she looked at her old friend. He clearly felt remorse over what had happened, but it didn’t excuse him for what he’d done. “So what do you intend to do about it?”

         “I’m just sick of running away and hiding from what I’ve done. I’m going to try to fix it any way I can.” He approached the bars again and looked at her with such big eyes that it made her own sting. “We were friends once. I know that I don’t deserve to call you that after what I did. If our friendship ever meant anything, please help me fix this, Solona.”

         Solona took a step back. “Why should I believe anything you say? You already lied to me once. How do I know you’re not lying now?”

         “I’m still the same Jowan you knew. If...If you’re still the same friend I once had, I’m hoping you’ll help me do what I know is right.”

         “He wishes to redeem himself,” said Leliana. “Doesn’t everyone deserve that chance?”

         Solona looked to Alistair, who shrugged. “He’s your friend. You know him best.”

         “Give me a chance, _please_ ,” said Jowan.

         “How exactly are you planning on making things right?” asked Solona folding her arms across her chest. “Not with more blood magic I hope.”

         “I… Well, I’d try to save anyone still up there. There must be _something_ I can do!”

         “And after that?”

         He sighed. “I assume I’ll be arrested…or executed…or whatever people like me get.” He hung his head. “A part of me knew right from the beginning that I’d have to face the consequences one day. I knew I’d be caught _eventually_. Everything I’ve done had just delayed the inevitable. I’m done with running and hiding. I need to account for what I’ve done.”

         “That’s commendable…if it’s true.”

         The corners of Jowan’s mouth twitched. “I’m glad you think so. So…what happens to me now?”

         She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. _He was my friend. Even if he is a blood mage…he understands what he’s done. He wants to help, and we need all the help we can get._ All remaining anger oozed out of her, and all that was left was a heavy ache that sat over her heart. “I’m opening your cell,” she said, “but don’t try anything.”

         “You’re…you’re letting me out?”

         She opened the cell door. “Just help. Don’t make things worse.”

         Jowan smiled as he stepped out. “I won’t, I promise. I’ll find a way to fix this, somehow.” He moved to embrace her, but stopped as Solona flinched. “Thank you,” he said, holding one of her hands and gave it a squeeze. “I won’t forget this.” Then he ran down the corridor they had come down.

         _I hope I’ve not made a terrible mistake_. She watched him leave as she had done before in the Circle Tower. Last time, he had fled like a dog with a tail between its legs. This time, however, he had determination in his stride, shoulders squared and ready to take actions. _Perhaps this won’t be a mistake._

***

They fought their way to the top level of Redcliffe castle, past many more waves of undead, and burst through the front doors, into the main hall. But what they found inside was worse than they thought. Jowan had been telling the truth. It was not he who had created the army of walking dead… It was Connor. The young boy, clearly under a demon’s control, his voice too deep and harsh for a child, set a guard of men to attack them as he fled the room, all under his command…including the Bann.

         “Teagan!” Solona shouted as he unsheathed his sword and shield. “Please, think about what you’re doing!”

         “They are under the boy’s—or demon’s—command,” said Wynne beside her. “They have no control over their actions.”

         “Then we must stop them,” said Leliana. “But let’s try not to hurt them too badly.”

         The fight seemed to go on forever. It was hard _not_ to hurt the Bann and his men, as they attacked the party with such force that it was clear they were meant to kill. Solona had no choice but to urge the others to fight back harder. She cast a freezing charm over Teagan, keeping him encased in ice before he could bash her with his shield. The rest of the guard she had to hurt, because there were too many of them to focus on. Leliana unleashed a rain of arrows, knocking many of them down. The rest, Solona shot electricity through her staff at, sending them shaking to the floor, jerking as the lightning coursed through them.

         Teagan broke out of his icy cage and swung his blade at Solona. She ducked, twirled her staff and whacked him around the head with it. He stumbled back, falling to the ground with the rest of his men, clutching his head. His eyes glazed over for a moment, before they returned to their normal grey colour.

         “G-Grey Warden? Solona?”

         She knelt down beside him. “Are you alright, my Lord?”

         “I am better now…I think,” he replied, rubbing his head. “My mind is my own again.”

         A pang of guilt hit her stomach as he shivered—an effect of her cold spell, and a large bump was beginning to form on the side of his head where she had hit him with her staff.

         Lady Isolde rushed over, almost knocking Solona out of the way. “Oh, Teagan! I am so sorry! My poor boy…poor Connor!”

         The Lady was wracked with sorrow, her eyes red and cheeks shiny with tears, but Solona could not feel anything for the woman. “You knew about this all along,” she said, getting to her feet.

         “I…yes,” said Isolde, looking away. “I didn’t tell you because I believed I could help him. I still do.”

         “I’m sorry My Lady,” said a voice as they walked into the room, “but Connor has become an abomination. He is no longer your son.”

         Solona whirled round at the voice. “Jowan…you live.” She could not help the smile that crept onto her face.

         “You!” Lady Isolde screamed. “You did this to Connor!”

         “I didn’t! I didn’t summon any demon, I told you!” He approached the party, his hands up in a friendly gesture. “Please, if you’ll let me help…”

         Her voice broke. “Help? You betrayed me! I brought you here to help me son, and in return you poisoned my husband!”

         “This is the mage you spoke of?” said Teagan, studying Jowan warily, hand twitching over his sword. “Didn’t you say he was in the dungeon?”

         “He _was_ ,” Isolde replied. “I assumed the creatures had killed him by now. He must have been set free.”

         Solona gulped and looked away. She caught eyes with Jowan, and they shared a look that said, _I won’t say anything if you don’t_.

         “My cell door was damaged during a fight between your men and the corpses,” Jowan lied. “I was able to escape on my own.” Isolde frowned disbelievingly, but said nothing.

         “After what he did,” said Isolde, “he should be executed! Without him, none of this would have happened!”

         Teagan shook his head at her. “Your secrecy made his actions possible, Isolde.”

         “I know what you must think of me, My Lady,” said Jowan. “I took advantage of your fear. I am sorry. I never knew it would come to this.”

         “You shouldn’t turn away his help,” said Solona, unable to believe the words coming out of her mouth. _Am I defending Jowan?_

         “Not yet,” Teagan agreed. “And if Connor is truly an abomination…”

         Jowan nodded his thanks to Solona. “The demon in Connor needs to be destroyed. Killing Connor is…the _easiest_ way to do that, certainly. But there is another way. A mage could confront the demon in the Fade, without hurting Connor himself. I can enable another mage to do so. It normally requires lyrium and several mages, but I have…blood magic.”

         “ _No_ ,” Solona said outright before anyone could continue. “More evil cannot be of any help here.”

         “You can find Lyrium and more mages at the Circle of Magi—if they would even do it.”

         Solona slapped her hand upon her forehead. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? They owe us a favour…we could ask them to help us!”

         “A much more sensible choice,” Wynne agreed, eyeing Jowan through narrowed eyes.

         “Connor will not remain passive forever,” said Isolde.

         “We must take that chance,” said Solona. “Blood magic may seem like the easiest option,” she looked at Jowan, who quickly looked away, “but we cannot afford to take the easy route without thinking about the repercussions. We shall go to the Tower and ask the mages for help.”

          “I will keep Jowan here,” said Teagan, “as a precaution. He wants to help—he can watch over Connor with us.”

         “Then we shall leave straight away.” Solona and the party bowed to Lady Isode and Bann Teagan before they turned on their heels and left the main hall.


	19. Chapter 19

_19 – Solona_

The Circle tower had greatly improved since they had been there last. Bodies had been cleaned away, the blood and guts that covered the walls gone. Templars and mages were recovering from their wounds and injuries. The Circle was well on its way towards rebuilding to how it once was.

         First Enchanter Irving sat in the entrance hall with Greagoir, overseeing the rebuilding of a few pillars that had been shattered during the fighting, threatening to allow the ceiling to cave in.

         “Solona!” He rose from his seat on a stone bench at the side of the room as he spotted her. “Welcome back! I did not think to see you here again.”

         “I have come requesting help,” said Solona, “something entirely separate to the Blight.”

         Irving nodded. “I see. Well, I cannot say no to our saviour! Come, let us talk in my office.”

         She followed him along corridors and up several flights of stairs. On her way she saw plenty of Templars and mages, all of whom smiled at her, seemingly knowing what she and her party had done to save their home. One Templar did not smile, however. A young man with curly blond hair and hazel eyes glared at her from across the hall, his grip on his sword tightening as she passed. He looked better than when she had last seen him, covered in cuts and bruises, most of which were now almost completely healed. Although, by the way he leant on one leg rather than the other, Solona assumed he still had a little way to go before being healed completely. She smiled at him, but the surly gaze he gave in return made her flinch, quickly looking away. It was as though his glare burned her skin through her armour.

         Eventually, they reached Irving’s office. Solona almost ran inside to get away from Cullen’s stare. When they had both taken a seat either side of his desk, Solona filled the First Enchanter in on what had happened in Redcliffe.

         “Can the Circle go to Redcliffe to save a possessed child?”

         Irving cocked an eyebrow. “The child is…possessed? But…killing the demon would mean killing the…unless…” He sat back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “You intend to enter the Fade? Yes…yes it can be done with a group of mages. I shall gather what mages I can, and we shall leave promptly. A life is at stake.”

         Solona smiled. “Thank you, First Enchanter. I will meet you there.”

***

Redcliffe castle was eerily quiet when Solona and her travelling party returned. First Enchanter Irving awaited their arrival in the main hall, along with Teagan, Lady Isolde, and Jowan. It was a shock to see her old friend again. A part of her thought that he may have tried to flee again, but he must have been honest in his intent to stay and deal with problems now instead of running away from them.

         “So, there you are,” said Irving as Solona walked into the room. “We have brought lyrium and the preparations for the ritual. We can start anytime.”

         “Who is going into the fade?” asked Alistair.

         “Only a mage can do so,” Irving answered.

         “Then it will be me,” said Solona, stepping forward.

         Alistair rushed forward and caught her arm. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I’m sure someone else can—”

         “No, I will,” said Solona, though she smiled at his concern. “I’ve been in the Fade before. I’ve dealt with demons… I can do this.” _I think_ … _I hope_.

         “It sounds like a demon of Desire and Envy to me,” said Irving. “It will most likely try to tempt you in some way.”

         “I know,” said Solona with a nod. “It’ll be fine.”

         “Very well. Let us get this ritual underway.”

         The mages encircled Solona, their hands raised, eyes closed. Lyrium glowed in and around her, turning everything a whitish-blue. Solona readied herself, hands out either side of her, chest puffed out as she embraced the lyrium surging through her. Jowan fidgeting behind everyone watching caught her eye. He watched her anxiously, chewing his nails. He was whispering under his breath, but he was too far away for Solona to hear her. But one thing he said she _could_ just about make out by reading his lips: _let her be safe. Please, Maker, let her be safe._

         She cried out as the lyrium surged into her body all at once, and for a moment, she felt nothing—an empty blankness that startled her more than any pain she had felt. She closed her eyes, hoping that the next time she opened them she would see _something_ , anything…

         A familiar, glowing green hue greeted her as she dared to open her eyes. Alien plants, a cracked floor, and jagged rocks. The sky above her swirled and hummed unnaturally. _The Fade._ Ahead lay only one path that seemed to line the side of a ginormous black mountain, and distant cries of an older man and a young boy shouting out to each other floated around her ears.

         “Is that you, Connor? I can hear you! I’m coming!”

         “Father! Where are you? I don’t understand… It’s so cold. I want to go home!”

       _Well, let’s get this over with, demon_.   

***

Solona cast a healing spell over a burn on her arm. _Stupid rage demons!_ Luckily, she had asked Wynne to teach her how to perform healing spells effectively. The demon had almost fooled her once into thinking that she was speaking with the boy, Connor, but after the second and third time, she was beginning to tire of the demon’s games.

         “Come out and face me!” she shouted, wandering into an open space, seemingly deserted. “Alone this time, without any of your fellow demons! Show yourself!”

         A purple desire demon floated up from the ground in front of her. She jumped back, startled. It was tall and curvaceous like a human woman, except instead of hair she had purple flames, and where her eyebrows should have been there were two large horns that spiralled out either side of her pretty face. Her eyes glowed mischievously as she floated over to Solona.

         “Very well,” she purred, her voice deep and seductive, “no more disguises. Here we meet, face to face. You see my true form and stand in my domain. It is here that I am most powerful.” Her hands fondled her breasts, as if to entice Solona, but she kept her eyes firmly on the demon’s, not trusting it for one second. “Yet, I have no wish to engage your power. Nor should you be so eager to engage mine. Perhaps we could converse instead?”

         Solona shook her head, unable to say _no_. Something about the demon willed her to stay and talk, to listen and want.

         “I am a creature of _desire_. Whatever you living creatures want, I wish to provide. Lust, power, greed. Perhaps there are things _you_ wish for, hmm?”

         Before Solona could say another word, the demon snapped her fingers and a figure formed beside her. “Recognise him?”

         Solona’s entire body tensed, her heart racing in her chest. Before her stood Cullen, blond curls a strange green colour in the Fade. His eyes however were not their usual hazel, but a glowing purple, just like the demon’s.

         “You regret what happened to him, do you not?” the demon asked innocently. She twirled around Cullen, who stared blankly at Solona, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “The poor Templar who now hates mages…hates _you_.”

         Solona could say nothing in reply. She stared at Cullen, unable to look away as his blank stare warped into a sultry glare.

         “But I could change that.” The demon clicked her fingers, and Cullen’s face softened. “I could make him better. I could cure him of his hate. In fact, why stop with one Templar? I could cure _all_ Templars of their hatred for mages. Isn’t that what you want, mortal?”

         Solona nodded, her chest tightening so much it became hard to breathe. “I never wanted him to suffer, of all people.”

         “Especially since he has feelings for you—or _had_ , rather. I could bring those back as well…” She clicked her fingers again, and Cullen’s face blushed as he looked at her, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “He could be the Cullen you once knew. The Templar who blushed whenever he spoke to you. Who wanted to help you when you looked sad or troubled. Who rushed to tell Irving that you were possibly in danger when Jowan pressured you into helping him escape the Circle Tower.”

         Without thinking, she reached forward to touch his face. His skin was ice cold beneath her fingers. She flinched away. _This isn’t real. You’re talking to a_ demon _, Solona!_

         “I care not for your offer,” Solona snapped, waving her away. “I came to discuss Connor, not my desires.”

         The demon sighed. “Very well.” She clicked her fingers, and Cullen disappeared in a puff of smoke. “I possess the boy’s soul. We could battle for it…or we could negotiate like civilised beings. You are smart. You could even come out ahead.”

         First Enchanter Irving’s voice popped into her mind: _It will most likely try to tempt you in some way._

         “Let me make a proposition then,” said the demon. “I abandon the boy…for now. But I retain the contract he and I made. Many years from now, I may return and claim him as mine. This will be _long_ after whatever you want is done. In exchange, I will provide something of value to you. Something you desire…or _someone_. What say you?”

         Solona snarled. “I want nothing from you.”

         The demon shook her head at Solona. “That is very sad. Very well, then. If you want a battle, you will have it.”

         Fire erupted from the demon’s hands, sending Solona flying backwards. The cloth on her armour singed, the smell clinging to her nose. She patted out the flames and rolled to her feet, unleashing ice from her hands. She encased the demon, but it only slowed it down. She broke free in a matter of seconds, sending shards of ice out in every direction, like arrows. Solona cast her hand up at a few hurtling toward her with lightning reflexes. With a flick of her hand, the shards returned to the demon, slicing into the creature who wailed shrilly.

         She stormed over to the demon as it fell to the ground, clutching at its wounds, moaning. “Mercy,” it begged. “Mercy, please!”

         Solona moved her palm above the creature. “I will show no mercy to a creature like you,” she spat, before lightning surged out of her palms. The demon jerked and jolted, screaming until it exploded into little pieces, fizzling out of existence.

***

Solona stood beside Jowan on the docks as the Redcliffe towns folk gathered to say goodbye to their lost loved ones. Isolde stood just ahead of her, clutching onto her newly freed son, Connor, with a vice grip, as if she would never let go of him again. Knights lined up at the edge of the dock with flaming arrows nocked to their bows.

         “I-I’m glad you’re okay,” Jowan whispered in her ear.

         “Uh…thanks,” she replied. The anger she had previously felt for him had melted away, leaving an air of awkwardness between them.

         “You were always the better mage out of the two of us.” He hung his head, black hair falling into his eyes. It had grown a lot since they had last seen one another. It was almost touching his shoulders now. “I’m so sorry, Solona. I really am. I never meant to hurt you, or Lily, or anyone.”

         Solona sighed. “I know you’re not a bad person, Jowan,” she said. “You just make the most stupid mistakes.”

         Jowan chuckled softly. “I really do, don’t I?”

         She turned to him, finally looking him in the eye. “Whatever happens now…just know, I forgive you.” There was no point in holding onto her grudge. Who knew what would become of him after this. What if she never saw him again? The last thing she wanted was for his last memory of her to be one where she cursed at him for being a fool. “Just promise me you’ll stay away from blood magic from now on?”

         Jowan smiled. “I promise… And, thank you.” He held out a hand. She brushed it aside and wrapped her arms around his neck. His arms wound themselves around her waist, and for a moment they embraced in silence, no words needed. When they broke away, the knights released their arrows into the sky. They rained down on the dead in their boats, floating across the lake, setting them alight.

***

“So, it is over,” said Teagan. Isolde, the Bann, Solona and her travelling companions had gathered in Arl Eamon’s bed chambers to speak privately. “Connor is his old self. He does not seem to remember anything, which is a blessing. I suppose we will need to send him to the Circle of Magi’s Tower for…training, once the war is over. It’s so odd to think of the boy as a mage, of all things. Eamon has much to mourn and rebuild—should he recover.”

         Solona looked past the Bann at the man lying still on a nearby bed. He was pale and sickly, his skin clammy and tired. _He doesn’t look well at all._

         “There is still the matter of Jowan,” said Teagan, and Solona’s heart dropped to her stomach. “His poisoning of Eamon is what started this mess, yet he lives. I must decide what becomes of him. We will hold him in the dungeons for Eamon to decide his fate. If he doesn’t recover, Jowan’s fate is sealed.”

         “I do not think you have the right to decide his fate,” Solona said bravely. “He’s the Circle of Magi’s responsibility. He should return there and face the consequences for what he’s done…whatever they may be.” She shuddered at the thought, not wishing to know what would happen to her old friend. _Death? Tranquility? Isolation?_ Although a part of her wished to save him from his fate, she knew it would be wrong to allow him to escape punishment for what he had done. He had to face the music sometime.

         “But that is for Eamon to decide, when he wakes,” said Teagan. “Jowan will stay in the dungeon for now.” He turned to face his brother, lying motionless on the bed behind them. “Whatever the demon did to my brother, it seems to have spared his life, but he remains comatose. We cannot wake him.”

         “The Urn!” Isolde cried, kneeling beside her husband. “The Urn will save Eamon!”

         “You mean, the Urn of Sacred Ashes?” asked Solona.

         Isolde nodded. “My husband funded the research of a scholar in Denerim: Brother Genativi. When Eamon fell ill, I sent the knights to speak to Genativi, hoping that he had finally discovered the location of the Ashes… We were unable to locate him.”

         “It looks like we don’t have much choice then,” said Solona. “I will see if I can locate this relic.”

         “Perhaps you could visit the Brother’s home in Denerim,” said Teagan, “to see if there are any clues to his whereabouts.” He finally turned away from his brother and approached Solona, a hand outstretched. She took it and shook it firmly. “I must go and help rebuild this town. I wish you luck, Warden, and may the Maker go with you.”


	20. Chapter 20

_20 – Solona_

The months that passed were some of the most trying months Solona had ever faced. She had managed to recruit the Dwarves, Elves, Mages, and eventually, the Arl of Redcliffe’s men. She had travelled to Haven, passed the Guardian’s trials, and gained a small pouch filled with Andraste’s ashes. Eamon had awoken instantly as the ashes touched his lips, and preparations to face Loghain were in motion.

         Solona and her travelling companions: Wynne, Alistair, and Leliana, had gathered in the main hall of Redcliffe Castle with Teagan and a now-conscious Arl Eamon. He stood tall before them all, even with a slight weakness that had not yet faded from the poisoning. The mage that had helped activate the Ashes’ healing powers informed him that he would need a little more time to recover, but the old Arl was stubborn enough to get out of bed and face Solona himself.

         “There is much to be done,” he said, “but I should first be thankful to those who have done so much.” He looked to Solona. “Grey Warden, you have not only saved my life, but kept my family safe as well. I am in your debt. Will you permit me to offer you a reward for your service?”

         “My Lord, it was an honour to help you,” she replied with a little bow. “The only boon I could accept is your help against the Blight.”

         “A selfless request,” he said, a small smile appearing beneath his grey beard. “But I feel you are worthy of a reward. I would like to honour your efforts. Allow me to declare you and those travelling with you, Champions of Redcliffe. You will always be a welcome guest within these halls.”

         Solona returned his smile. _Me, a mage, welcome here?_ Her chest swelled with happiness. Had someone said that to her whilst she was a Circle mage, she was sure it would have been a joke. Mages were never truly welcome anywhere, as they were distrusted and feared. But Eamon had been so sincere, so honest… _He truly means it. I am welcome here_.

         “Thank you,” she said, bowing again. “But there is much to do.”

         “Indeed,” Teagan agreed. “We have no idea what Loghain will do when he learns of your recovery, brother.”

         Eamon frowned. “Loghain instigates a civil war even though darkspawn are on our very doorstep.”

         _At last,_ someone _gets it._

         The Arl shook his head. “Long have I known him. He is a sensible man—one who never desired power.”

         “I was there when he announced he was taking control of the throne, Eamon,” said Teagan. “He is mad with ambition, I tell you.”

          “Mad indeed… Mad enough to kill Cailan and attempt to kill myself and destroy my lands! Whatever happens now, Loghain must be stopped. We have no time to wage a campaign against him. Someone must surrender if Ferelden has any chance of surviving the darkspawn.”

         “Then we must make sure Loghain is the one to surrender,” said Solona.

         “I agree. Loghain will pay for his heinous crimes. But our armies must be reserved for the darkspawn, not for each other. I will spread word of Loghain’s treachery—both here and against the King. But it will be a claim made without proof. The claims will give Loghain’s allies pause, but we must combine it with a challenge Loghain cannot ignore. We need someone with a stronger claim to the throne than Loghain’s daughter, Queen Anora.”

         “Are you referring to—”

         “Ohh no. Definitely not. No!” Alistair violently shook his head. “ _No way_.”

         “You have a responsibility, Alistair, because of your Therin blood. Without you, Loghain wins. I would have to support _him_ for the sake of Ferelden. Is that what you want?”

         Alistair spluttered. “I—but I…” He hung his head. “No, my Lord,” he said grudgingly.

         Eamon nodded. “Then I see only one way to proceed. I will call for a landsmeet—a gathering of all Ferelden’s nobility in the City of Denerim. There Ferelden will decide who shall rule, one way or another. Then the business of fighting our true foe can begin.

         “But, before that, I believe there is the matter of the mage, my son’s tutor. He still lives I understand.”

         “He does,” answered Teagan. “He is in the dungeon, brother.”

         “Have him brought here. I wish to see him.”

         Solona’s heart almost broke out of her ribcage as it jumpstarted, beating so fast she could hear it in her ears. _Jowan._ She had almost forgotten that he was to face the consequences of his actions. And now she would stand witness to his punishment.

         Jowan followed Teagan into the room a few minutes later, escorted by two of Arl Eamon’s knights.

         The Arl addressed him. “What you have done is not in question. You tried to assassinate me and set into motion a series of events that nearly destroyed everything I cherish. What have you to say in your own defence?”

         Jowan could not look at the Arl, instead choosing to stare at his feet. He glanced up at Solona, eyes welling fearfully. She held back the urge to run to his side and comfort him as he looked as fragile as a young boy being scolded by his teacher. “I have nothing, My Lord,” he said eventually, his shoulders sagging. “Other than to say, I am sorry. I expect no mercy for what I have done.”

         “Grey Warden, have you anything to say on Jowan’s behalf?”

         She breathed deeply. _Oh no, don’t ask me, please._ What could she say? What _should_ she say? There were so many things she could tell the Arl.

         _Let him go._

         _He needs to pay for what he’s done._

         _People died because of him._

         _He’s a good person who made many mistakes._

         _It doesn’t excuse what he’s done_.

         She swallowed hard before she spoke. “I’ve known Jowan for many years. We were both in Ferelden’s Circle Tower together. He has done terrible things, and I do not condone them one bit—he knows that—but he is a _good person_ , My Lord. Loghain threatened him to poison you. He did not do so out of his own will. Of course, he still could have refused, and again I am not condoning his actions, but he is not a malicious person. He has made terrible decisions, but the consequences of them were not meant on his part. It’s clear that he regrets what he’s done, and when I freed him from the dungeons he set about helping people within the castle against the undead that plagued it.”

         The Arl pondered over her words, arms folded across his chest. “And what would you have me do? As the injured party, my ability to see the merciful path is…strained.”

         “I ask that he return to the Circle of Magi. There he can be suitably punished for his actions.”

         Eamon nodded. “True enough, and wisely said.” He turned to Jowan. “I hear by turn you over to the tower of the Circle of Magi. May the Maker have mercy on your soul.”

         “Thank you, My Lord,” Jowan said quietly, his voice breaking. He looked to Solona again, and this time she could not resist the call to embrace him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gave him a tight squeeze. “And thank you, my friend,” he whispered, returning her embrace.

         She pulled away, holding him at arm’s length. “You can continue on the path of repentance that you have started,” she said. She reached up to brush a single tear that ran down his cheek with her thumb. “Be the mage you were meant to be, Jowan.”

         “Will I ever see you again?”

         Solona nodded. “I will visit you when this is all over, I promise.”

         He embraced her one more time, whispering, “Stay safe,” in her ear, before he was escorted away by two of the Arl’s knights.


	21. Chapter 21

_21 – Cullen_

Cullen scowled at every mage that dared to pass him in the corridors. He stood stiff like a statue, his eyes watching like a hawk.

         Two conversing Templars that passed caught his attention. He focused on their conversation as they stopped to inspect a mage’s possessions that she carried in her arms. “Did you hear?” said one. “The Warden won the landsmeet against Loghain Mac Tir.”

         “Really?” said the other, giving the mage a thumbs up to let her go, not having found her to possess anything she should not have. “Against the Hero of Riverdane? How did she manage that?”

         The mention of her made Cullen’s heart do a little flip…but it also made an anxious sweat form across his forehead. He could no longer make any sense of his feelings towards her. He still cared for her, that was clear, otherwise he would not have continued to listen to the conversation between the two Templars ahead of him. But when he thought of her, all he could see was the demon that had pretended to be her, torturing him. He had managed to keep her out of his thoughts, most of the time.

         “She revealed all the terrible things he’s done that most people didn’t know about. Apparently, he sold elves to Tevinter slavers; poisoned Arl Eamon; murdered King Cailan; threatened nobles…awful stuff, don’t you think?”

         The second Templar nodded. “Definitely. So, who rules now if Loghain is not in charge?”

         “The landsmeet chose Alistair Therin, bastard son of King Maric. The Prince executed Loghain after one-on-one combat and took the throne from his half-brother’s widow, Queen Anora…”

         Their voices trailed away as they moved along the corridor, leaving Cullen to return to the mages around him. They rushed about here and there, gathering robes, staffs, magical books and potions, ready to depart for Redcliffe, where the Grey Warden had assembled her army of Dwarves, Elves and the Arl’s men. The mages would be the last to arrive, but would soon be free of the Circle’s restraints, beneath the command of another.

         _How can this be?_ Cullen thought, anger surging through his chest, making it ache. _How can they just be let go like this? How does Greagoir even know that they will stay and fight the Blight? They’ll probably abandon the cause and run free. Then we’ll see who’s right. When we’re hunting down each and every maleficar because Greagoir put his trust in them!_

         A group of giggling mages caught his eye. They stared at him from behind hands covering their mouths, sniggering to one another. “He’s the one who’s gone crazy,” said one. “Stay away from him.”

         “Crazy? Am I?” Cullen barked, startling the mages. He left his post and approached them, his hand hovering over his blade’s hilt. “The only person who’s crazy here is Greagoir. Letting you creatures out into the world, uncontrolled! If it were up to me, none of you would leave this tower alive! You should have all been put down for the sake of the safety of Kinloch Hold! How dare you stand there and mock _me_.” He drew his sword. “I should cut you down right now.”

         They giggled again. “Are you serious? He’s lost his mind.”

         Rage boiled through his veins. “I am sane enough to drive this sword through your heart, where it belongs!”

         The mages screamed as Cullen drew back his sword, ready to send it into the mage closest to him. Just as the blade drew close, he was thrown back by an invisible force. He crashed into the wall behind him, banging his head against the stone.

         Greagoir and Irving rushed down the corridor, Irving’s hand glowing with magic. “Rutherford!” Greagoir roared. “That is it! I have had it with you! I took you off patrols, gave you a chance to improve since we last spoke, but you have proven that you can no longer be trusted!”

         Cullen groaned, dropping his blade to the ground. His hands clutched at his throbbing head. “They threatened me, Knight-Commander!” he protested. “They are blood mages, all of them, I tell you! How can you let them go, after everything they did?”

         “Because I can see clearly, Cullen, unlike yourself. You cannot see past what a select few mages did to you.” The knight-commander kicked Cullen’s sword away, sending it skidding along the corridor. “As Knight-Commander of Ferelden’s Circle of Magi, I hereby release you of your duties until further notice.”

         Cullen’s stomach dropped to the floor. “You…you w-what?”

         “Although you have shown that you are unable to be left alone with mages, I believe you are not a lost cause. I have written to Knight-Commander Meredith in Kirkwall, North in the Free Marches. She is willing to take you in and help you recover from this…this _madness_ you have found yourself in.”

         “B-But…Ferelden is my home,” said Cullen, his voice weak. “I cannot leave here when…I made an oath to…”

         Greagoir knelt down before him, his armour squeaking. “I want you to go upstairs to your quarters and stay there. You will be in confinement until I release you. Pack up your belongings whilst you are there. When the Blight is over and the mages return from battle, you will leave for Kirkwall… _immediately._ ”

         Cullen shook his head. “I c-can’t leave, ser. This is all I’ve ever known… I cannot just abandon you.”

         Greagoir looked down at him with a mixture of pride and sorrow. “You are not abandoning anyone. You are following orders. I trust you are still able to do that?”

         The young Templar hung his head, a few loose curls falling into his eyes. “Yes, ser.”

         “Good, then get going. Do not talk to anyone on your way upstairs, and stay inside your quarters until I personally release you.” He helped Cullen to his feet and patted his shoulder. “You will recover from this, Cullen. I hope that you will be able to return to us one day, when you are well. For now, your duties here are over.”


	22. Chapter 22

_22 – Solona_

Solona strolled along the corridors of Arl Eamon’s estate. For the first time in almost a year, she felt free, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Loghain Mac Tir had paid for his crimes with his life, and Alistair now sat on Ferelden’s throne. A wide smile sat on her face as she walked towards the bedrooms. On the way to her own, however, she stopped at the sound of panicked pacing, back and forth, accompanied by anxious murmuring.

         “What have I done? Was what just happened real? Am I really… Oh, Maker…”

         She stopped outside Alistair’s room to see him pacing up and down, his hands thrown helplessly in the air. After a few moments, he spotted her lingering in the door way. “Solona! Oh, my friend, I’ve made a huge mistake… I can’t be King! Look at me! Wynne still fixes the holes in my shirt!”

         Solona could not help but laugh as she slipped inside, closing the door behind her. She held him still by both arms and looked up at him with a serious expression to show that she meant every word she was about to say. “Alistair, I wouldn’t have chosen you as King if I didn’t think you were up to the job. You’re a good man through and through, and a true Ferelden—just what this country needs. They need a leader who understands the threat we are about to face.”

         “But I’m no good with politics!” Alistair moaned. He flopped down on the bed, his head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. “Anora would have been the better choice…even if she did support her murdering father. I don’t know the first thing about running an _entire country_ , Solona!”

         She took a seat on the bed beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “That’s what advisors are for, silly. You made Arl Eamon your regent—an excellent first command. He can help you through this.”

         He looked up at her with large, puppy-dog eyes. “And you, right? You’ll be there for me too?”

         Solona smiled. “I don’t know what I, a mage, can do for you…but of course I’ll always be there to support you. You’re my best friend. If I can have your back whilst you fight two Ogres at once, I’ll have your back whilst you’re King. There can’t be much difference really.”

         Alistair chuckled. “I’m so lucky to have you as a friend.” He leaned over and embraced her. “I’m thankful that you were the one who survived the Joining. Who knows where I would’ve got without you.”

         “True,” she teased as she pulled away. “I trust you with my life, Alistair, and therefore, Ferelden. You’ll make a great king, just as your father did, and Cailan.”

         “Any chance you’d consider…you know…” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh…marrying me?”

         Solona spluttered, almost falling off the edge of the bed. “W-What?!”

         Alistair’s eyes widened in a panic. “I mean…I’m king now, and…well…I have to marry _someone_. I have to produce an heir with them. I just thought…you know…maybe we could… It’s just because I couldn’t imagine sharing my life with a total stranger. I know you and I aren’t _in love_ or anything!” he added as Solona’s startled expression did not fade in the slightest. “I would just rather marry a friend than…anyone else.”

         Solona shook her head at him in disbelief, but a smile crept onto her face. “You are such a sweetheart, Alistair Therin.” She took one of his hands in both of hers. “Even if I could agree to such a thing…I’m a _mage_. I can’t take titles…or _be queen_ for that matter. I think the Chantry would be in uproar!” They both laughed, Alistair’s smile growing wider, but Solona’s began to flicker. “And besides…I would be no good to you as a wife,” she said, her voice becoming small. “You were the one who told me how Grey Wardens found it difficult to have children _after_ becoming a Warden. The odds of two Grey Wardens conceiving are…very slim.”

         It was a subject she had pushed out of her mind since Alistair had told her one night at their camp many months ago when she had drilled him with questions about their Order, since Duncan had not been able to tell them much in the short amount of time they had spent together. Before she was conscripted by Duncan, she had never given much thought to becoming a mother. It was never an issue, since she would be spending the rest of her life in the Circle, and any child she did have would be taken away. But now she was free, able to become a mother if she wanted…but that chance had been taken away by the taint inside of her. _I’ll never have children._ The thought made her chest tighten, but she quickly pushed it down. _Now isn’t the time for self-pity. Alistair needs me._

         She looked up at him as he watched her ruefully. “You’re rushing into this. One step at a time, okay? First: become king. _Check_ , we’ve done that. Next: defeat the Blight. Then you can worry about marriage and children and all the boring speeches you’re going to have to give at every special occasion.”

         Alistair threw his head back and groaned. “Ohhh why did you say that, Solona? Speeches? I’m terrible at speeches.”

         “I know. You tried to give a speech to celebrate Oghren’s success with Felsi…we all know how that went.”

         “Don’t remind me!”

         She smirked. “I seem to recall you had drunk so much that after a minute or so of slurred words you threw up all over Leliana’s nug.”

         Alistair playfully shoved her. “Stop it!”

         She laughed, and he laughed too until their sides hurt, gasping for breath.

         A knock at the door silenced them. “Grey Wardens? I need to speak with you for a moment.”

         Riordan, the Warden they had met in Arl Howe’s dungeons, popped his head into the room.

         “Of course, come in,” said Alistair.

         Riordan’s face was stoic, but there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “You’re new to the Grey Wardens,” he began, “and you may not have been told how an archdemon is slain. I need to know if that is so.”

         “You mean, there’s more to it than chopping off its head?” Alistair joked. But Riordan did not laugh.

         He sighed. “So, it is true. Duncan had not yet told you. I had simply assumed…” He shook his head. “Tell me, have you ever wondered why the Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the darkspawn?”

         “I assume it has something to do with the taint in us,” said Solona, clasping her hands together anxiously in her lap. Her gut told her bad news was coming.

         Riordan nodded. “That is exactly what it involves. The archdemon may be slain, as any other darkspawn, but should any other than a Grey Warden do the slaying, it will not be enough.” He began pacing back and forth ahead of them, increasing the tension in the room. “The essence of the beast will pass through the taint to the nearest darkspawn and will be reborn a new in that body. The dragon is thus all but immortal. But if the archdemon is slain by a Grey Warden…its essence travels into the Grey Warden instead.”

         Solona swallowed. “And…what happens to the Warden?” she asked, though she was not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

         “The darkspawn is an empty, soulless vessel. A Grey Warden is not. The essence of the archdemon is destroyed…and so is the Grey Warden.”

         Alistair rose from his seat on the edge of the bed. “Meaning…whoever kills the archdemon… _dies?_ ”

         “Yes,” Riordan confirmed. “Without the archdemon, the Blight ends. It is the only way.”

         A chill shot through her body. Wrapping her arms around her frame, she said, “So it’s up to us three to kill this archdemon.”

         “In Blights past, when the time came, the eldest of the Grey Wardens would decide which amongst them would take the final blow. If possible, the final blow should be _mine_ to make.” Solona and Alistair opened their mouths to complain, but Riordan held up a hand to stop them. “I am the eldest and the taint will not spare me much longer. But if I fail…the deed falls on _you_. The Blight must be stopped _now_ , or it will destroy all of Ferelden before the rest of the Grey Wardens can assemble. Remember that.” He bowed before Alistair before excusing himself, allowing the two young wardens to get some rest before the battle tomorrow.

         The pair sat in silence for several minutes after Riordan left. Eventually, Solona was the first to speak. “If Riordan does fail… _I_ will be the one to take the final blow.”

         “W-What?” Alistair spluttered. “No way! I’m the king here! It should be _me_! My last and final act…saving Ferelden.”

         Solona shook her head. “No,” she said curtly. “Being king is precisely the reason why it needs to be _me_ that…that d-dies.” She almost choked on the word. Fear prickled over her skin. She clenched her hands into fists to keep it under control. “The world needs you, Alistair Therin. They don’t need a Grey Warden mage who will not be missed.”

         “You _will_ be missed!” Alistair shouted. “By me! By everyone!”

         She took a deep breath and got to her feet. “It will be _me_ , that’s the end of it,” she declared, and swiftly left the room before Alistair could say otherwise.

         She took a left and entered her bedroom…but it was not as empty as she had left it.

         “Do not be alarmed. It is only I.” A woman with raven black hair spiralled into a messy bun stood in front of her fireplace.

         “Morrigan? Is everything alright?”

         “I am well. ‘Tis you who are in danger.” She turned her back on the flames to face her friend. “I have a plan, you see. A way out. The loop in your hole. I know what happens when the archdemon dies. I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed, and that sacrifice could be you. I have come to tell you this does not need to be.”

         Solona frowned. “What do you mean?”

         “I offer a way out. A way out of all the Grey Wardens, that there need be no sacrifice. A ritual…performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night.”

         “What sort of ritual is this?” she asked, suspicion brewing at the back of her mind.

         “What I speak of is old magic, a ritual from a time long before the Circle of Magi was ever created. Some would call it blood magic—” Solona flinched at the mention of it.

         Solona folded her arms across her chest. “And where did you get this ritual from?”

         “From Flemeth, of course. I have known about it for some time.”

         “What? Then why didn’t you tell me before Riordan did?”

         Morrigan snorted. “Would you have believed me if I had been the one to tell you? I have my doubts.”

         Solona chewed her lip. Morrigan was acting awfully suspicious. It set her on edge, fear tingling over her skin again. “Tell me more,” she blurted.

         Morrigan sat on the end of Solona’s bed. “What I propose is this: convince Alistair to lay with me. Here, tonight. And from this ritual a child shall be conceived within me. The child will bear the taint, and when the archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon. At this early stage, the child can absorb that essence and not perish. The archdemon is still destroyed, with no Grey Warden dying in the process.”

         “But…won’t the child become a darkspawn?”

         Morrigan smiled. “Not at all. It will become something different: a child born with the soul of an Old God.” Her smile slipped from her face. “After this is done, you allow me to walk away…and you do not follow me. Ever. The child will be mine to raise as I wish.”

         It was all a slap in the face to Solona. _A child with the soul of an Old God? Morrigan sleep with Alistair? Morrigan a mother? Did Flemeth make her come along just so this could happen? Did my friendship with her mean anything?_

         “You seriously think Alistair will agree to this?”

         “If you care for him as you seem to, you will convince him to. Consider the alternative. Do you think Alistair will fail to do his duty as the future king and save his country? And if you take the blow, he loses a dear friend. How do you think he would feel about that?”

         Her mind drifted back to the conversation she had had with Alistair only minutes ago. He wanted to be the one to sacrifice himself…but she could not allow that.

         “I think you have many good reasons to tell him to save his own life. I think you should consider them carefully.”

         Solona sighed heavily. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

         “A wise decision. I shall wait here, then, while you go and speak with Alistair.”

         Alistair was still in his room when Solona knocked to come in.

         “Can’t sleep either?” he asked. He had undressed out of his armour, wearing a loose shirt and trousers, but he lay on top of his blanket rather than beneath it. “I saw Morrigan outside your room earlier, and the look she gave me…that was icy even for her.” He paused, noticing the tense look on his friend’s face. “Is something up?”

         She cleared her throat awkwardly, unable to look him in the eye. “We need to talk.”

         Alistair jerked back. “Oh. I guess whatever Morrigan had to say, it’s big. This is what I get for becoming king! Everyone always brings you the bad news. So what is it, then? Rats running amok? Cheese supplies run low? I can take it.”

         His humour almost made her laugh, but what she had to say kept any happiness at bay. “What if…what if I told you that there was a way to… _avoid_ dying tomorrow?”

         Alistair laughed nervously. “Okay! You’re starting to worry me. What is this about, Solona?”

         “I need you to sleep with Morrigan as part of a magic ritual,” she blurted.

         He chortled this time, smacking his hand against his thigh. “Cute! This is payback, right? For all the jokes?”

         But Solona did not laugh, and Alistair stopped immediately.

         “You’re…not joking? You’re actually serious? Wow. Be killed by the archdemon or sleep with Morrigan. How does someone make that kind of choice?” He looked at her seriously. “You’re not actually asking me this, are you? What kind of ritual is this anyway?”

         “It’s some kind of ancient magic,” Solona explained. “Flemeth’s probably.”

         “Well _that’s_ reassuring!” he said dryly. “Wait, no it isn’t.”

         He ran a hand through his hair and turned to sit down on a sofa at the side of the room. “Look, even if I was willing to entertain this idea…and I’m not saying I am…is this really what you want me to do? I’ll follow you into battle any day, but this… Are you sure?”

         “Yes,” she said. “You need to trust me.”

         Alistair sighed. “I _do_ trust you. If this is what you think is best…I’ll do it.” He groaned, his nose wrinkling. “Ugh, where is she? Let’s go and get this over with before I…change my mind.”


	23. Chapter 23

_23 – Solona_

Flames. Screams. Death.

         It was everywhere. In all directions she turned—it was all she saw. Bodies lay dead and broken on the ground. People she knew, and people she didn’t. Some Solona had talked to only days ago. Others she knew had family and loved ones. She felt every death as a blow to her ever-tightening chest.

         Denerim was a frightening sight. Flames covered most of the buildings that had not already collapsed. Blood was splattered across the ground. She almost slipped in a huge puddle of it as she passed a pass pile of bodies that had been thrown together wildly. The urge to gag rose in her throat. She quickly looked away.

         She was no better off, however. Blood and black ichor stained her blue and silver Grey Warden armour. It clung to her hair and skin too, the metallic smell filling her nose so prominently she was sure she would never forget it.

         Her hands tingled with magical energy, fingers wiggling, urging to release it. Sure enough, a group of darkspawn turned a corner as they walked up some steps towards Fort Drakon and into their path.

         “More stand in our way!” cried Leliana, reading her bow.

         “Dispose of them, quickly!” cried Morrigan, igniting her hands with fire.

         It was a never ending battle between the healthy and the tainted. Once they had slain the group that had dared cross their path, another would almost immediately replace it. Solona’s limbs began to seize up without a break, but she fought through the pain, not allowing herself to slack for even a second. The darkspawn were not easy to kill. One mistake could mean the end of her life.

         Solona raised her palm to the sky and cast an ice storm above them, freezing several darkspawn in place. Morrigan summoned stone to slam into those frozen, shattering them to pieces. Alistair charged in from behind, slicing down those who had not been affected, whilst Leliana took aim and shot down as many as she could with her bow—

         A loud, fiery roar filled the skies. Everyone, including the darkspawn, looked up. A gigantic dragon soared through the skies, its scales black and tainted…and on its back…

         “Riordan!” Solona cried. He clung to the dragon with his daggers pierced into its hide. It roared louder as they soared through the sky, Riordan clambering to its head using his daggers to keep himself steady, sinking them deep into its back. He slowly made his way to the top, and brought his daggers down into the creature’s neck. It screeched, louder than anything Solona had heard before. She covered her ears and watched helplessly as the dragon swerved, slamming into a tower. Riordan lost his grip…sliding off the black and purple scales…

         “NO!” Solona sprinted past the darkspawn who stared up at their leader in awe, towards Riordan as he fell out of the sky… His body slammed into the ground with a sickening crack. She fell to her knees beside him, but he did not stir. His eyes wide open, unblinking, unseeing. His chest did not rise or fall, his hand did not grasp hers as she took one between both of hers. Riordan had failed.

         Taking advantage of the darkspawn being distracted by their master, Alistair helped Morrigan and Leliana slay the rest before joining Solona. They shared a look that said, _it’s one of us that has to make the final blow now._ Although Solona trusted that Morrigan would not have asked her to persuade Alistair about the ritual if she did not think it would actually work, she still doubted whether it would work at all. Last night she had been desperate, consumed by worry and love for her friends that she would have taken anything to have them survive this…and she had. But would Morrigan and Alistair’s child really save them?

         _I have to prepare for the worst. I will make the final blow. If the ritual fails…then it will be me that dies. I won’t let Alistair do this_.

         They fought their way through Fort Drakon, facing enemy after enemy. They bumped into a group of mages and Templars fighting on one floor near the top, however, and jumped in to their aid. Solona’s eyes automatically scanned the area for a certain Templar, but could not find her target.

         _It’s just as well,_ she thought. _I suppose it’s best he’s not here. The last thing I want is to see him fall to the darkspawn because he was concentrating on mages not hurting anyone rather than his own safety._ _He doesn’t deserve that._

         Eventually, Solona and her party reached the top floor, where the archdemon was waiting for them, along with several dozen darkspawn. It roared violently, shaking the ground as it tossed its head, ready for battle. Solona readied her staff, grip tightening around the delicately carved wood. “You guys deal with the darkspawn,” Solona told her friends, “I’ve got the big guy.” And then she charged.

         She ran towards a large group of darkspawn swarming defensively before their beast of a leader. With a wave of her staff they parted, a huge blast of energy sending them flying away from her. The archdemon appeared to grin with blood-stained teeth as she approached, hands charged with magic.

         “I will be the one to take you down, Urthemiel,” she declared. “You will harm no one else.”

         Flames roared from between its lips towards her. She rolled out of their way, and upon jumping to her feet she cast another ice storm to swirl on top of the great beast. It shrieked as ice and snow touched its hot scales, steam hissing from each point of contact. The creature lunged at her, its great claws missing her torso by inches as she jumped back just in time.

         The sound of a large pass of people running towards them filled the air. Solona took her eyes off the archdemon for a split second to see what was left of the mages, dwarves, elves, and the Arl’s men charge onto the scene, taking over from Morrigan, Alistair, and Leliana as they fought the mass of darkspawn around them. The trio left the army to it and joined Solona as she battled against the corrupted dragon, helping her as the creature’s jaws snapped too close for her liking for the third time.

         Alistair sliced at its legs, neck and tail with his blade, blocking the majority of the blows from its large claws, occasionally sending him skidding back along the stone floor. Morrigan and Solona stepped back, allowing Leliana to get closer with her bow an arrows. She sung a beautiful song as she fired one after the other that spurred on her team, giving them strength to carry on, despite the various cuts and bruises they had obtained.

         “I’m trusting you, Morrigan!” Solona cried, throwing lightning at the dragon’s head. “This ritual had better work!”

         For a moment Morrigan said nothing, reading her staff to release lighting with Solona. Her voice unusually soft, she replied, “I would not endanger the life of a friend.”

         On that note, Solona gave her a nod before running straight towards the creature. As it snapped and screeched at Alistair, she cried, “Give me a dagger!” to Leliana. She used both daggers and a bow as a rogue, but rarely used her blades, preferring to go long range. The bard unsheathed one from her back harness and threw it towards Solona. She caught it with one hand, placing it between her teeth as she leapt and clung on to the creature’s side by its scales. Too distracted by Alistair, Leliana, and Morrigan, the creature remained unaware of Solona scrambling onto its back. And by the time it realised…it was too late.

         She pulled herself up onto its neck and ran along it towards its head. She leapt once more, raising the dagger high above her head before sending the blade deep into the creature’s skull. It roared again, thrashing about, trying to throw her off, but Solona kept a tight grip on the creature, digging her legs into both sides of its head. She yanked out the dagger and pushed it in again and again until it slowly stopped thrashing. It fell to the ground with a huge thud, sending dust and broken bit of stone everywhere. Solona fell from its head, slamming into the ground with a cry as pain shot up the side she landed on.

         Gritting her teeth, she looked back to see the creature lay still, blood oozing from its head—but it was not yet dead. Its eyes rolled into the back of its head, but there was still breath in its body as its chest rose and fell.

         “Solona!” Alistair cried, rushing to her side to help her up. “You did it!”

         She glanced at Morrigan, who watched her anxiously, but gave her a look that said, _this will work_. Solona threw herself on Alistair. “Not yet, my friend.” Snatching his sword from his hands, she pushed away from him, running back towards the dragon. Alistair cried out, heels scraping against the stone as he raced after her, but she was faster.

         The creature began to stir, raising its neck. Solona swung Alistair’s blade and sent it deep into the dragon’s throat, slicing along its neck to silence its final roar. When it fell back to the ground once more, Solona raised the blade high, took a final, deep breath, and drove it hard into the creature’s skull.

         A sudden white light blinded her, the air around them filled with a magical energy like nothing Solona had felt before. It surrounded her and the blade, which began to shake in her hands. She tightened her grip, ensuring it stayed where it was. Her friends cried out to her, but their voices were distance, barely heard over the deafening rush of energy that surrounded her, her hair whipping about wildly.

         Then it suddenly disappeared, shooting away from her. Morrigan gasped as it zoomed into her stomach, and a gigantic shockwave blasted them off their feet. Weakened, with her limbs feeling as heavy as lead, Solona did not move. She stayed flat on the ground as her friends got to their feet—Morrigan cradling her stomach—and closed her eyes, feeling her very-much-alive heart beating wildly in her chest. _It’s over. We did it. The Blight is defeated._


	24. Chapter 24

_24 – Solona_

_And then…it was over. With the archdemon dead, the darkspawn horde quickly crumbled. Most fled back into the deep roads. They would remain a threat in the years to come, but the Blight had been ended before it had truly begun. Ferelden had been saved, and the entire kingdom rose up to joyously greet its new king. The Grey Wardens stood redeemed, and a new age had begun. But at what cost?_

         Cheers and applause filled Denerim’s throne room, deafeningly loud. Alistair stood before the crowd of delighted Fereldens, greeting his people with a wave, dressed in golden, royal armour. Solona stood to the side with her fellow companions, all of whom she was pleased to say survived—with the exception of Morrigan, however. She was nowhere to be seen, but that was expected. She had said she would be leaving, but gone without a trace…?

         Solona clapped and cheered for Alistair beside Leliana and Oghren, smiling up at him proudly. _Why was he so worried? He’s a natural at this!_ A serious expression covered his face, but the corners of his mouth twitched, threatening to smile. _He’s enjoying this._

         Once the crowd’s cheers had died down, Alistair raised his hand to call for silence. “My friends,” he began, “we are gathered to celebrate those responsible for our victory. Of those who stood against the darkspawn siege of Denerim, there is one in particular who deserves commendation.” His eyes fell upon Solona, and waved at her to step forward. “The one who led the final charge against the archdemon remains with us still. An inspiration to all she saved that day.”

         Solona felt the eyes of hundreds of people on her back like hot beams as she stepped into the spotlight and approached the steps leading up to Alistair, taking her place beside him. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the Hero of Ferelden, the first Grey Warden to defeat the Blight since Garahel four centuries ago.”

         Cheers erupted again, but this time…they were for _her._ She turned to the adoring crowd who chapped and screamed her name. “Solona! Grey Warden!” Friends and strangers alike smiled at her, not one sour face in the room. Even Sten did not look as stoic as usual. She was sure there was a hint of a smile there somewhere on his grey-skinned face.

         Alistair turned to her as the crowed eventually quietened. “My friend, it is hard to imagine how you could have aided Ferelden more. I think it only appropriate that I return the favour. Is there any boon that you might request of Ferelden’s king? If it is within my power, I will grant it.”

         Solona smirked at him. “You’re putting on a _kingly_ voice,” she teased quietly.

         Alistair bushed. “Shh! Just…answer the question!”

         “I only wish to continue to serve the crown, your Majesty,” she replied.

         “Then I hereby appoint you Chancellor to serve as my advisor in the years to come.” Then he added quietly, “Maker knows I’ll need it.” He turned to face the crowd. “Let it also be known that the arling of Amaranthine, once the land of Arl Howe, is now granted to the Grey Wardens. There they can rebuild, following the example of those who went before them.”

         The crowd clapped and cheered again. “What are your plans?” Alistair asked her. “Will you remain with the Grey Wardens?”

         Solona bit her lip and cheekily replied, “I think you’ll need my help more.”

         Alistair snorted. “Well, I didn’t want to come right out and _say it_ … but I’m relieved you’ll be nearby.” He pointed to the doors at the other end of the long room. “There’s a group of Ferelden citizens waiting outside to get a look at their hero. I suggest you make at least a brief appearance before they storm the gate.” He chuckled, and so did Solona. _People are that desperate to meet me?_  “Just tell the guard at the door when you’re ready.”

         With a nod, she almost leapt down from the steps and embraced her friends. Zevran told her how he was going to travel for a while, to stay out of sight of the crows, lying low for a bit. Though he assured her that she would see him again, sooner rather than later. Shale was going to attempt to become a dwarf again, and Wynne was going to travel with her for a while. Their destination: Minrathous, Tevinter. Oghren planned to stay on the surface with his new lady love: Felsi. Sten was to return to Par Vollen to his people, and Leliana was to return to the Urn of Sacred Ashes, asked by the Chantry to ensure its protection.

         She wandered about the hall, greeting strangers and important nobles until she was met by a familiar face, one that watched her with pride. “Irving!”

         “It is very strange to hear so many speak of a mage with such glowing terms,” he said “Deserved, of course, but still not what I am accustomed to. Allow me to offer you my congratulations, and my thanks. The tower is now nearly restored to order. It could have been so much worse.” He placed both his hands on her shoulders. “It pleases me to see such a young pupil achieve prominence. I look forward to seeing what you accomplish next.”

         “I think I need a break from accomplishing things for a while,” Solona joked, cracking a smile on her old tutors wrinkled face. Seeing him here made her realise how far she had come from the Circle mage studying in Kinloch Hold. He was a reminder of her old life, of old acquaintances… “Can I enquire about…someone?” she asked hesitantly. “How is Templar Cullen?”

         Irving’s smile faded slightly. “He suffered a great deal during Uldred’s revolt. He is unable to adjust back to normality, having threatened several mages with death for no apparent reason. He has become…paranoid. Anxious. Knight-Commander Greagior has ordered that he leave for another Circle in the Free Marches, so he can start again in a new environment.”

         Solona nodded solemnly, her heart suddenly as heavy as lead. She remembered the weakness in his voice, the injuries on his body, the anger in his eyes as he glared at her. _Poor Cullen…I did not realise how much he had suffered…I hope he’ll be okay._

         “Well, I will leave you to your well-earned celebrations,” said Irving, patting her arms. “You have done me proud.”

         “Tell Jowan that—” she paused. She had no idea what had happened to him, except that he had returned to the Circle of Magi. “Is he…?”

         “Alive? Yes,” Irving replied, to her surprise, “for now. We are uncertain how he should be punished for his actions. He is a blood mage, and committed terrible acts…but he is clearly remorseful for what he has done. It is a difficult situation, but Jowan has proved himself untrustworthy with his magic. He may have to become…tranquil.”

         “May I visit him? One last time before you… before he receives his punishment.”

         “Of course,” said Irving. “He was your friend once.”

         “He still is. He always will be.” Then she walked away towards the doors, ready to embrace the screaming crowd outside that grew louder the closer she got to the other end of the hall.


	25. Chapter 25

**DRAGON AGE: 2**

_25 – Cullen_

 Kirkwall was a dingy place. It lacked the character that Ferelden had. Everything was dull and grey, with large, intimidating statues of slaves to remind its citizens that they were in a place once ruled by the Tevinter Imperium.

         The journey there had been atrocious. Cullen had had to take a boat from Ferelden across the sea to the Free Marches. But the thought of sleeping below deck in a tight, enclosed space made his whole body ignite with adrenaline, his heart racing and his mind whizzing with bad memories about a purple, magical prison and a demon that looked like the woman he had loved that haunted his dreams. The lyrium helped sometimes, but not always. Cullen refused to sleep below deck, instead choosing to doze every so often on the deck with the crew—even if he was continuously soaked to the bone, never completely drying out as more water would slop onto the deck.

         When he arrived, the most stern-looking woman in Templar armour had come to greet him at the gates. She had long, blond hair and piercing blue eyes that looked into his very soul. He repressed a shudder beneath her intense gaze, and held himself tall. “Knight-Commander Meredith?” he asked.

         Her stern eyes narrowed. “So… _you_ are the Templar Greagoir mentioned.” She looked him up and down, and asked, “What is your opinion of mages?”

         He gulped. “I-I…do not think I should speak freely on that matter,” he replied. Greagoir had told him to keep his mouth shut before he left Kinloch Hold about how he felt about mages.

         “I asked you a question,” she snapped. “Answer it.”

         He breathed deeply before answering, unable to meet his eyes. “They are monsters,” he told her quietly. “They are a danger to the world and themselves. They cannot be trusted.” He dared to look up at her again, and to his surprise she was no longer glaring at him.

         “I see.” Cullen flinched as she placed a gloved hand on his shoulder. “You will fit in here just fine, boy,” she said, before leading him into the Gallows, towards Kirkwall’s Circle of Magi.

         As it turned out, Cullen did fit in well there. To his surprise, most of the other Templars agreed with him on his stance about mages. Meredith was exceptionally proud when he had confined in her about what had happened to him in Kinloch Hold. Mages had tortured him, broken him, shown him that they were not to be trusted under any circumstances. Meredith wholeheartedly agreed.

         “They are cursed, unfortunately,” she told him as they sat together in private in her office. “They like to believe they have been _gifted_ their magic, but it is a plague upon this land, just like the Blight. You have done well to understand it. Greagoir may have told you otherwise, but he—in my opinion—was always too soft with the mages in his care. He never truly understood the dangers mages pose. We cannot kill them, but we must _control_ them.”

         Cullen had begun to admire his Knight-Commander, watching as she all but ruled Kirkwall with an iron fist. He was determined to prove his worth to her. Hunting down rogue apostates, punishing sympathetic Templars who would help the mages in their charge when they were not permitted to, keeping order within the Circle without mercy. He had proven himself a worthy Templar of Kirkwall countless times, and so Meredith promoted him to Knight-Captain.

         He was often tasked with investigations in this higher role, and one day he was given one that intrigued him the most, as it involved missing Templar recruits—one of which he knew: Wilmerd.

         “I will see this done myself,” Cullen told his commander inside her office.

         She simply said, “I know you will,” without hesitation.

***

Cullen followed a trail through a hilly forestland just outside the city. _This should lead me to Wilmerd._ Sure enough, as he turned a corner onto a small cliff, there was Wilmerd, suspiciously out of Kirkwall…alone.

         “Wilmerd!” he shouted. “What are you doing out here?”

         Wilmerd trembled at the sight of Cullen as he stormed over, pulling out his blade. The recruit did not answer him, however, simply shaking his head.

         Cullen had not the time for patience. He grasped Wilmerd by his arms and shook him. “Andraste be my witness, Wilmerd,” he growled. “I will have the truth from you, _now!_ ”

         “Mercy, ser!” Wilmerd whimpered. “Mercy!”

         Cullen pointed his blade to the recruit’s throat. “Were it that easy…”

         “D-Don’t hurt me!”

         Cullen sent a knee into the boy’s stomach. He crumpled to the ground in a heap, clutching his abdomen.

         “I will know where you’re going,” Cullen demanded, pointing his blade at the recruit on the ground, “and I will know _now_.”

         A laugh made Cullen jump. “I thought Templars only treated mages this badly! Nice to see you’re branching out.”

         Cullen removed his eyes from Wilmerd for a split second to see a tall man with black, shaggy hair and a scruffy beard, and a red stripe across his nose. With him were three companions. A beardless dwarf, a healer, and a surly young warrior.

         “This is Templar business, stranger,” Cullen warned, “You—”

         A sudden, loud cackling erupted from the floor beneath him. Cullen stepped back as Wilmerd got to his feet, still laughing. “You have struck me the last time, you pathetic human!” he cried, raising his arms. “To me!” The recruit’s body warped and changed into a hideous form. His legs merged together, his neck stretching out, his face disappearing.

         “An abomination!” Cullen shouted, fear sending memories of Ferelden’s Circle’s abominations flashing through his mind once again. Demons began to pop into existence around them, and Cullen whipped out his shield. “Maker preserve us.”

         A fight erupted, but luckily, Cullen was not alone. The stranger and his companions aided him, helping to dispose of the demons quickly and effortlessly. Cullen personally put his sword through Wilmerd’s heart, making sure to kill the abomination himself. _If you want a job done, you do it yourself_.

         When all was done, Cullen sheathed his blade and wiped the blood from his face. “I knew,” he barked. “I _knew_ he was involved in something sinister! But this… is it even possible?”

         “Do you think he was possessed?” asked the shaggy-haired stranger.

         “Normally we only worry that _mages_ will fall victim to possession,” Cullen answered, leaning down to examine the body. “I have heard of blood mages or demons in solid form that could summon others into unwilling hosts. I had not thought one of our own could be susceptible.”

         “You shouldn’t have been out here alone with him.”

         Cullen got to his feet and offered his hand. “I am Knight-Captain Cullen. I thank you for your assistance…?”

         “Hawke,” replied the stranger, shaking his hand.

         “I have been conducting an investigation of some of our recruits who have gone missing. Wilmerd was the first to return. I had hoped to confront him quietly, out of sight.”

         “The recruits I spoke to told me they believed Meredith was conducting some sort of deadly ritual.”

         Cullen laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “What? That’s preposterous! Recruits can be worse than a weaving circle with their rumours. There is a vigil before Templars take their arms, but the gravest danger they face is falling asleep.”

         “Do you know what happened to Wilmerd while he was gone?”

         “Obviously more than I had anticipated,” Cullen replied. “Wilmerd has never been fully convinced of the Order’s rules. Mages cannot be our friends. They must _always_ be watched. I thought I thought Wilmerd might be meeting with some old friends who’d escaped the Circle.”

         Anger flashed across Hawke’s face. “I’ve got friends who are mages. Are you saying _they_ need to always be watched as well?”

         Cullen shifted uncomfortably, the grip on his sword tightening. “I was at the Circle Tower in Ferelden during the Blight. I saw first-hand how Templars trust and leniency can be rewarded.”

         “Trust and leniency?” spat the healer behind Hawke, copper hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Is that what you call it?”

         Cullen looked away and admitted, “I still have nightmares of Uldred’s depravities.”

         It had been a few years since the Blight had been defeated, but the nightmares never wavered. They lingered at the back of his mind like a parasite, infecting his mind every night with dreams that would sometimes leave him screaming the next morning.

         “Where there’s one demon,” said Hawke, “there’s usually more. Where do we start digging?”

         “I fear it is time to widen this investigation. My discretion may have cost me one of our best recruits: Wilmerd’s friend, Keran. They were last seen together at the Blooming Rose, but I had no luck interrogating the…uh…young ladies there.” Heat flushed to his cheeks. “I doubt they know anything of magic or demons,” he added quickly.

         Hawke smirked. “I’d be willing to search there.”

         Cullen nodded thankfully. “The Order would truly be in your debt if you helped us with this. No one at the…ah…b-brothel will speak with me for fear I would shut them down for serving our recruits. If you learn what manner of creature did this to Wilmerd, please come and tell me in the Gallows. I will ensure you are rewarded.” With that, he turned his back on Wilmerd and prepared himself for the journey back to Kirkwall, to report his findings to Knight-Commander Meredith.


	26. Chapter 26

_26 – Solona_

“The Deep Roads? Seriously?”

         “Hey, I’m the Warden-Commander out of the two of us, Nathaniel. If I say we’re going into the Deep Roads, we’re going into the Deep roads.”

         Nathaniel grumbled beneath his breath, but said nothing as he followed Solona through the entrance to the Deep Roads in the Free Marches. She had been planning this expedition for weeks. The Primeval Thaig was of great interest to the Order, being farther into the Deep Roads than anyone has ever been. As Commander of the Grey, she had the choice of accompanying the Warden chosen for this task, which just happened to be Nathaniel Howe—though he was clearly not very happy about it.

         They ventured through the stone tunnels, lit by glowing lava and blue mushrooms. This part was less tainted, however. The Blight not having consumed this place completely—yet. There were still plenty of darkspawn around, both Nathaniel and Solona having sensed it the moment they stepped into the tunnels. Their attention must have been elsewhere, however, as they did not come across any of the creatures whilst exploring.

         “I keep expecting them to jump out at me at any second,” Nathaniel muttered, his eyes flicking about the place. He had unsheathed his bow, keeping an arrow nocked against it, just in case. Solona, on the other hand, was more relaxed. She had been in the Deep Roads before, whilst the tunnels had been infested with darkspawn, the fighting never-ending. This time it was like a walk in the park—a dark, gloomy, stone-lined park.

         They never stopped, the pair leading by following Solona’s map.

         “I can’t see it properly!” Nathaniel grumbled, leaning over her shoulder, past her shoulder-length, black hair.

         “Well maybe if you hadn’t lost your map, you could look at it yourself,” Solona teased.

         “I didn’t _lose_ it! Someone stole it I tell you!”

         Solona laughed. “ _Sure_. Okay.”

         “I did—” The pair stopped at the sound of fighting ahead. “It sounds like darkspawn,” said Nathaniel.

         “And people,” Solona finished, hearing the sounds of spells bouncing off walls. She put away her map in her pack and whipped out her staff as Nathaniel readied his bow, and rushed along the corridor ahead of them to the sound of fighting.

         “Do you feel that?” Nathaniel asked. “There’s a Grey Warden nearby!”

         In amongst the darkspawn taint, she sensed a less tainted figure—a Warden. “I do,” Solona replied, jogging alongside him.

         As they turned a corner, the fighting stopped. A mage with long, copper hair tied back in a ponytail and a prominent earring smacked the last darkspawn in the head with his staff, knocking it out cold.

         “Anders!” Solona cheered.

         “Solona! Fancy meeting you here!”

         Solona pulled him into an embrace, but flinched slightly as she did. He felt… _different_. There was the usual connection that the Grey Wardens felt for one another due to the taint within then, but there was something else…something unnatural.

         “I thought you were through fighting darkspawn,” said Nathaniel, finally lowering his bow.

         “Nate! Haven’t seen you in a while too. Oh,” he fished into his pocket and pulled out a map, “here, you can have this back.”

         Nathaniel’s face dropped. He snatched it back and waved it in front of Solona’s face. “ _See!_ I told you!”

         She bit back a smirk. “Okay, okay. You were right.”

         “I’m not here to fight darkspawn,” said Anders. “I came looking for _you_.” He looked back at a surly man, build like an ox, leaning on his brother’s shoulder.

         Solona blinked. “Hawkes?”

         “Hey, cousin!” said the eldest, with shaggy black hair and a beard to match.

         The beardless dwarf behind him spluttered. “You’re related to the _Hero of Ferelden_?”

         “She’s my mother’s cousin’s daughter,” Hawke replied. “We never met though, because—”

         “Because I was taken away from my mother by Templars,” Solona answered. As Commander of the Grey, she had been given the freedom that she had always wanted. After duties had been fulfilled, she had taken it upon herself to research her family, since she knew little of them despite the faded memories she had of her mother, Revka Amell. Her mother’s cousin, Leandra Amell, had married into the Hawke family.

         The surly brother, Carver, groaned, his eyes glazing over, skin losing its colour.

         Solona looked between Carver and Anders. “You mean…the boy as a recruit?”

         Nathaniel shook his head and spoke solemnly. “I’m sorry,” he said to the brothers. “I know this comes as no comfort to you, but we do not recruit Grey Wardens out of pity. It is no kindness.”

         “You think it’s kinder to let Carver die from the Blight?” said Hawke, struggling to keep his brother standing.

         “Sometimes it is, yes.”

         Anders stepped forward. “Nathaniel, trust me when I say this one is worth your time. With the Blight over, you Wardens don’t have recruits lining up.”

         “This is no simple thing, Anders. This may be as much a death sentence as the sickness, and you know it.”

         “He’ll die anyway! Take him and try…I’m asking you.” Anders looked to Solona. “We’re still friends, right?” he asked, and she nodded. “Then do this for me, as a favour for a friend.”

         Pursing her lips, Solona examined Carver Hawke. His forehead was shiny with sweat, dampening his crop of black hair. His knees trembled, his breathing wheezy. _It’s the Blight sickness all right._ It would not be long before the sickness took him. Clearly Anders had not told Hawke anything about being a Warden, because she was sure it would not have been an option if he had.

         “If he comes with us,” she said, “he comes now, and you may not see him again. Being a Grey Warden is not some fantastical cure. It’s a calling—one from which you can never escape.”

         “A-Are you sure about this?” Carver asked his brother, eyelids struggling to stay open.

         Hawke looked to Solona to see the serious in her eyes. She could tell he understood what she meant now. He sighed. “I wish it hadn’t worked out this way, but I think it’s your only chance.”

         Solona nodded. “We must move quickly,” she told Nathaniel, “if we’re to make the surface in time.”

         “But…the expedition—”

         “—can wait,” she told her fellow Grey Warden sternly. “We can come back another time, preferably with more Wardens than just the two of us.”

         “Then…I guess this is it,” said Carver to his brother. “Take care of Mother.”

         Solona threw Carver’s free arm over her shoulders and hoisted him off of Hawke, taking his weight. Nathaniel rushed over to help as her own knees threatened to buckle, taking Carver’s other arm. “Goodbye, Hawke,” she said over her shoulder as she led Carver away. “I hope we meet again…in better circumstances. I will write to you to let you know what happens with your brother.”

***

The sunlight that shone upon them when breaking onto the surface almost blinded the party. Carver groaned, leaning more and more upon Solona, making her back and legs ache from his weight.

         “Don’t give up on me now, Carver,” she warned. “I didn’t just almost break my back to get you up here only for you to die on me.”

         “I-I’ll try.”

         “You sure this is a good idea?” asked Nathaniel. “We might not make it in time.”

         “Well we won’t with _that_ attitude,” she replied. “There’s a Grey Warden cache somewhere nearby, here in the Free Marches. There’s bound to be the equipment we need to put Carver through the Joining.”

         “Are you forgetting something? We need mages to prepare the… _you know what_.”

         She pointed to herself. “Uh… _I’m_ a mage? As Commander of the Grey I know how to prepare it all. And there’s no need to be secretive, Nate. He’s going to be one of us, bound to secrecy, or die, so he’s not exactly going to tell anyone, is he?”

         Nathaniel laughed. “True. Right, where is the cache then?”

         “I assume Anders didn’t steal your map of the Free Marches,” she teased. “It should be beneath a village near here.”

         Nathaniel helped Solona put Carver down, propping him up against a rock, before rummaging through his pack and pulling out his map. Solona knelt down beside Carver, reached inside her own pack and pulled out a water skin. “Here,” she said, “have something to drink.”

         He took the water skin with shaky hands and took a sip, water spilling over his lips and down his chin. Solona took hold of it and poured it into his mouth for him. “A-Am I going to…to d-die?” he asked, blue eyes wide with worry.

         Solona was reminded of Duncan, how he had been brutally upfront and honest with her about her Joining and the Grey Wardens. He had been remembered as a great Commander of the Grey, and now she had taken his place it was only right that she continued his approach. “It’s possible,” she told him, truthfully. “You may die if we don’t get you to our cache in time…or if your Joining isn’t successful.”

         “T-The odds aren’t…s-stacked in my f-favour…are they?” Carver joked, before he coughed and spluttered. She rubbed his back as he spat up blood over his leather armour.

         “Drink some more to wash your mouth out,” she ordered, handing him the water skin again. “I’m going to try my hardest to keep you alive, Carver, okay? But you need to work with me. Keep your warrior’s fighting spirit alive.”

         “I found it,” said Nathaniel, pointing to his map. “I know where it is.”

         “Great! Help me get him up and we’ll go right away.”

         Nathaniel and Solona took an arm, hoisted Carver to his feet, and began their slow and steady journey towards the nearest Grey Warden cache.

         It took them over a day to get there, and with Carver getting sicker by the hour, it was not looking good. “We need to hurry if we don’t want this to be a waste of time,” Nathaniel grumbled, a sweat beginning to break out across his forehead, shiny beneath the moonlight in the night sky.

         “We’re almost there,” Solona assured them both. Sure enough, the tiny village came into view, and the Grey Wardens wasted no time. Nathaniel took Carver’s entire weight, hoisting him over his shoulders, whilst Solona looked for the Grey Warden vigil—a Griffon. _Where are you…where are you…_ The village was deserted, everyone seemingly inside their homes, smoke puffing out of their chimneys, giving Solona and Nathaniel free reign of the place. A small carving on the side of a storage building caught her eye. “There! I see it! In here!”

         Solona kicked open the door and helped Nathaniel get Carver inside before anyone spotted them. Thankfully, it was empty apart from a few boxes and barrels, no people in sight. _Perfect_. Ahead of them was another Grey Warden carving, delicately tucked away behind a barrel. It was beside a cupboard that Solona had seen before in Denerim. She felt the back of the cupboard with her fingertips until she found a small lever and flicked it up. The cupboard parted, revealing the Grey Warden cache inside.

         It was small, but stuffed with lots of items. Armour, weapons, vials, chalices, and books. Nathaniel put Carver down beside a box filled with sharp blades and helped Solona gather what they needed for the ritual.

         “Do you have permission to do this?” Nathaniel asked, helping her rummage through the vials to find darkspawn blood. “He’s not going through the preliminary tests or—”

         “Nate, are you forgetting who I am?” she asked, impatiently, fingers clasping around a vial of archdemon blood. “I’m the Hero of Ferelden, Commander of the Grey, yada-yada-yada… I’m sure they’ll let me off this once for _saving a man’s life_.”

         She grabbed a vial of darkspawn blood, poured it into a nearby chalice, and then added a single drop of archdemon blood, making sure to put it back on the rack of vials carefully, knowing herself first-hand how hard it was to obtain.

         “I’m sure he’ll be fine anyway, just look at him!” she said, rummaging through a cupboard full of lyrium and grabbing a vial. “He’s clearly strong, and brave if he was willing to go into the Deep Roads.” She dumped it into the chalice and passed Nathaniel a spoon to stir it with. She took some herbs from another cupboard, crushed them up in her hands and threw them in too. “The only thing I’m probably going to get in trouble for is showing _you_ how to do the ritual, Nate,” she admitted. “But as I said, I’m saving someone’s life and potentially adding another to our ranks so those in Weisshaupt can’t really complain.”

          Nathaniel shook his head at her disapprovingly, but there was a flicker of a smile on his face. “Sometimes I wonder why I follow you, Solona,” he teased. “Then I remember why. Apart from the fact that you’re my commander…you give people chances, like you gave me.”

         “That I did!” She dashed over to the chalice and placed her hands over it, summoning magic from within her to swirl around the cup, igniting the sludge inside on fire. Nathaniel jumped back in alarm. “Don’t worry!” she said. “I know what I’m doing…I think.” Once the flames had flickered out, all that was left was a silky black liquid, magically prepared enough to drink. “Here we are! Carver, you still with us?”

         A weak moan answered her.

         “Nate, say the words,” she ordered, kneeling down beside Carver with the chalice. “We’ll try to make it at least somewhat official.”

         Nathaniel bowed his head. “Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you.”

         Solona raised the cup to Carver’s lips. “This will taste _vile_ , but keep it down,” she told him as the liquid passed his lips. He coughed and spluttered again, pushing the cup away, but she forced the rest of the liquid down his throat. The whites of his eyes covered his irises. He gasped and clutched at his head, a scream escaping his lips.

         “The whole village will hear him!” Nathaniel hissed.

         Solona covered his mouth with her hands as he thrashed and clawed at his body, and then suddenly, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed, head lolling onto his shoulders.

         “Well? Did he make it?”

         Solona put two fingers to his neck. To her relief, she felt a pulse. “He did,” she answered. “He’s one of us now.”


	27. Chapter 27

_27 - Solona_

It was many years until Solona returned to the Free Marches. After ensuring that Carver had settled in in Amaranthine with other newly-joined Grey Wardens, she dropped in to see Alistair in Denerim to ensure everything was going well at court.

         “Going well? I guess you could say that,” said Alistair one evening, as they sat together on a balcony in Denerim’s castle. He had grown out his hair a little, and kept having to sweep it back away from his eyes. He wore a leather armour lined with fur around the collar and cuffs, his expensive boots propped up on a table in front of them as they watched the sun set in the colourful sky ahead of them. “There have been revolts…people claiming I’m not Maric’s son…people who want Anora and Loghain back…”

         “And the _good_ news?” Solona prompted, sipping on a glass of wine, her scuffed Grey Warden boots propped up on the table beside him. Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell that Alistair was staring at her—well, not at _her_ exactly. At her uniform. His eyes occasionally gave away his jealousy and longing to be back with the Wardens.

         “Uh…Eamon tells me that the elves in the Alienage are doing well. The people of Ferelden are beginning to respect me, I think. Eamon says they need time to adjust, like they did with my father, but I’m not so sure.”

         Solona slapped him across the arm. “Don’t be so negative, Alistair! You’re a great king. Wherever I’ve travelled over the past few years, if anyone’s spoken of you, it’s always been good things, never bad.”

         Alistair pouted. “You’re just saying that because you’re my friend.”

         She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Half the Warden recruits who are from Ferelden think you’re a great king, and the rest are from Orlais and the Free Marches and haven’t heard enough about you to form an opinion yet.” She leant across the gap between them and placed a hand on his arm. “You’re doing great, Alistair. You have Eamon, and Teagan, and _me_. We’re all here for you.”

         Alistair sighed. “It’s just…who knew being king would be _so hard_?”

         Solona couldn’t help but laugh. “If it were easy, everyone would want to be king. I for one could never do what you’re doing. It’s hard enough being in command of Ferelden’s Grey Wardens, never mind an entire country.”

         Alistair snorted. “Tell me about it. If I could take it all back, I would. But I’ve got a duty to Ferelden and I can’t run away from it, just as you can’t I suppose.”

         “As much as we wish to,” she agreed. “Just for fun…where would you go?”

         “Weisshaupt, definitely,” he answered straight away. “Somewhere warm and sandy…and the Grey Warden stuff of course.”

         “Of course,” she said through a giggle. “I think I’d join you. Despite being made Warden Commander I’ve never actually been to Weisshaupt. I’m still waiting for them to call me up there.”

         “Well they’re probably a bit hacked off that you revealed the Joining process to Nathaniel Howe and made a boy a Grey Warden without going through the proper steps.”

         “That was years ago!” she said defensively, throwing her arms up in the air. “Carver’s proved himself to be a great Grey Warden. He was a little sour at first—that’s expected—but since then he’s grown into a great warrior. He’s often showing his fellow junior members how to swing a two-handed blade properly! I think I chose wisely.”

         “Well _I_ agree with you, but unfortunately I’m not the leaders at Weisshaupt so my opinion counts for very little. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be invited up there soon. You did do that little thing…you know… _stopping the_ _fifth Blight_.”

         Solona rose to her feet. “Well, I can’t stay long. I have to go back to Amaranthine and prepare for another expedition.”

         Alistair jumped up from his seat, almost knocking his glass of wine over onto the floor. “Must you go? You’ve barely been here a day!”

         Solona smiled at him as he stared at her with huge, puppy-dog eyes that reminded her so much of Barkspawn. The dog sat itself by the fireplace inside—a gift to Alistair to keep him company when Solona was not around. “I’ll come back again soon, okay? I’m allowed a day off here and there, but my duty is to the Wardens, remember?”

         Alistair’s shoulders drooped along with his head. “I know. I wish I could go with you.”

         “No, you don’t, Alistair,” she assured him. “You’re better off here.” She gave him one last embrace before she left under the cover of night, back towards the Arling of Amaranthine.

***

Solona marched into one of the junior quarters. The Wardens inside, sitting casually on their beds, chatting away, leapt to their feet at the sight of her. “Warden Commander!” they shouted, saluting her.

         She inclined her head in reply. “Evening ladies and gentlemen! Today’s your lucky day! You’ve been chosen by myself to accompany me on an expedition. We’ll be cutting through Kirkwall in the Free Marches to get to the Deep Roads where we’ll be looking for another abandoned Thaig, possibly containing Grey Warden relics. We leave tomorrow at first light. Prepare yourselves.” With her last words, she looked directly at the one junior member who had tensed at the mention of his old home—Carver. He looked away, but with a set jaw he turned on his heels and packed up his belongings stashed in a trunk at the end of his allocated bed.

         They set off the next morning on horseback, riding north across the open planes of Ferelden, where mud kicked up from beneath the horses’ shoes and a chilly wind threatened to wrap itself around your spine unless you wore thick armour and a cloak. They reached Ferelden’s docks, crossing the sea via a large ship towards the Free Marches.

         When they set foot in Kirkwall’s docks, however, Solona immediately sensed something was wrong. People were screaming, grey giants that looked a lot like her old companion, Sten—except they had horns where he had not—ran about the place, large spears in their hands. She had hoped to stop and rest in the city for a day or two, but with flames licking the sides of buildings and structures crumbling around them…there was no chance of that.

         Carver took the lead beside her. “We should cut through Lowtown,” he advised. “It’s the quickest way through here.” He kept his face stoic, but Solona could tell there was worry beneath his expression. The way he tapped his fingers against his armour said as much.

         “I am sure your family is fine,” she told him quietly, so only he could hear. Then she raised her voice for everyone else. “Unfortunately, we are not here to help these people,” she told them. It was a difficult thing to say, especially as the screams grew louder, but it was the truth. “We may help as we pass through, but it is not our priority. The Thaig is our priority. Is that clear?”

         The Wardens nodded around her.

         “Good, then let’s move.”

         Kirkwall appeared to be under attack by Qunari. It was something Sten had taught Solona to fear. The Qunari were ruthless people, and an attack by them would be extremely hard to put down. The urge to help bubbled inside her as they passed screaming people, fleeing their homes to get away from the giant soldiers who ran at them with spears as tall as them and as thick as a man’s arm. But her duty as a Grey Warden that had been drilled into her since her promotion to Commander of the Grey in Ferelden told her that she could not stop. Warden business was more important.

         But you could not tell a hoard of Qunari that you had no time to fight if they ran at you. Not differentiating them from the Kirkwall townsfolk, the Qunari charged at them, their spears and blades raised high.

         “Get ready to fight!” she shouted, whipping out her staff. She cast a protection spell upon them all before leaping into battle, swatting a spear away with her staff before it could penetrate her chest. It looked to be a short fight—a handful of Qunari against several well-trained Grey Wardens—but as the fight began to die down, more Qunari flooded onto the scene, surrounding them.

         Solona screamed as a spear narrowly missed her head. “Maker! That was close!” Casting a healing spell upon a fallen Warden on the ground beside her, bleeding from their leg, she yelled, “We need to find a way out!”

         “They’ve covered every exit!” Carver shouted, dodging a blow from a Qunari sword. He brought his sword round in an arc and sliced his body in two.

         A rogue spell whizzed in from an alleyway, hitting the Qunari in front of Solona square in the chest, sending him flying into a building behind him. She whipped round to see Hawke, Anders, a glowing elf with startlingly white hair, and a beardless dwarf who carried an extremely large crossbow.

         “Hawke!” Solona greeted him with a grin.

         “Nice to see you again, cousin!” he replied, turning back-to-back with her. “I thought you said we’d meet again in _better_ circumstances?”

         Casting a shield spell to block an incoming blade, she asked, “What in Thedas happened here? Why are the Qunari rampaging about?”

         Hawke summoned fire to rain down around them like shooting stars falling from the sky. “I may or may not have pissed off the Arishok.”

         “You _what_?” she spluttered.

         “I told you, Commander!” Carver shouted over the chaos, beheading another Qunari. “My brother always gets himself into trouble!”

         “Carver!” Hawke grinned. “Look at you in that fancy armour!”

         Carver grunted. “Shut up and help Varric!” he ordered, pointing to the beardless dwarf who had become surrounded by several Qunari, struggling to keep them back as he became pinned against the side of a building.

         Hawke whirled round and shot a blast of energy from his hands, forcing them away from his friend, before lifting them up and smashing them into the ground with more magic, curling his hand into a fist. Solona pointed her hand at the abandoned spears lying on the ground, levitated them in the air, and threw them towards the Qunari stumbling to their feet.

         “So, how’s life keeping you, cousin?” he asked, ducking from an incoming spear.

         “Pretty good,” she replied, smashing the end of her staff into the head of a nearby Qunari threatening to cut down one of her men. “I heard you obtained Aunt Leandra’s estate in Hightown with the riches you earned from the Deep Roads.”

         “That’s correct. Say, you wouldn’t happen to know a Templar named Cullen, would you?”

         Solona’s heart jolted at the name. “Y-Yes. Why?”

         He pushed Solona down as a Qunari blade came frighteningly close to her neck. She whipped round and threw lightning from her hands, sending the Qunari screaming away from her. “He mentioned you the other day, in the Gallows. He discovered my mother’s maiden name and remembered you have the same surname. Said you were in Ferelden’s Circle Tower together.”

         She gulped, losing all sense of where she was. All she could see was a battered and bruised Cullen, one that glared at her as if she was the last person in Thedas he would ever wish to speak to. “I-I…completely forgot he was here.” Irving had told her many years ago that Cullen was transferring to Kirkwall’s Circle of Magi, but it had completely slipped her mind, having been preoccupied with so many other duties.

         Eventually the fighting died down, leaving everyone huffing and puffing, wounds bleeding, bodies aching, but all glad they had survived the Qunari ambush.

         “You have our sincere thanks,” said Solona, kneeling down to heal any injured Wardens who sat groaning on the floor, clutching their wounds. “We didn’t expect to meet any resistance here. I can’t believe the Qunari would dare such an attack.” She got to her feet, and pulled the rest who remained seated to theirs. “Pressing matters take us elsewhere, but I will make sure to spread word to the other Free Cities. Perhaps they will bring aid.”

         “There’s something more important than an _invasion_?” said Hawke.

         Solona nodded. “There is, but I cannot say more. The Qunari are of far greater concern to you, I’m sure. Unfortunately, we cannot deviate from our mission. I’m sorry.”

         “You could stay and help us fight,” said Anders.

         Solona sighed, feeling torn. These people could definitely use her help, but—even though it was not something she agreed with—she was bound to follow the Order. “Even if we wished to, Grey Wardens cannot involve themselves in political matters.” With difficulty, she turned her back on her cousin and whistled for the Wardens to follow her. “Maker watch over you, Hawke.”


	28. Chapter 28

_28 – Cullen_

Cullen marched through the chaotic streets of Kirkwall, buildings set ablaze and covered in blood. Keeping a tight grip on his sword, he kept good pace behind his Knight-Commander as they bulldozed their way through hordes of Qunari, losing more and more men with each encounter.

         As they made their way through Lowtown, aiding a group of alienage elves who were fleeing a rampaging Saarebas, throwing masses of magic in every direction, Cullen looked past old Gamlen Amell’s house to see a group of Wardens pass through, of whom their leader looked very familiar. A pang hit his heart, tightening his chest. She whistled to her men to follow her as she turned her back on the chaos, black hair rippling behind her as she walked. It was longer now—she must have grown it out over the years…

         She looked just as she had in Ferelden’s Circle Tower, except now she had many scars and eyes that looked as though they had seen many things, both good and bad. Memories flashed before his eyes again…

         Watching her as she strolled about the corridors of the tower, chatting away with her friend, Jowan, who had turned out to be a blood mage. She would occasionally smile at him if she caught him staring at her in the library, making heat rise to his face. He remembered the day he found her fretting inside, head in her hands, worry eating away at her. She had refused his help, but looked as though she had found his concern…touching. Every kind word she spoke made him blush stupidly like a school boy. She had even _touched_ him. Her delicate hand had rested against his armoured chest, and even though she was not actually touching him, he could feel her burning touch against his chest, silencing his protests to help her. He remembered looking down into those beautiful blue eyes, startlingly bright against her dark black hair the same colour as ink. It was the closest he had ever been to her. He had hoped that she could not hear or feel against her palm his heart hammering against his ribcage….

         Painful memories replaced them. Demon-Solona standing tauntingly above him as he sobbed like a child, laughing as he screamed for someone… _anyone_ to help him out of his magical prison. Other mages laughing at him, calling him a freak, a madman, mentally ill. Locking him away, beating him, torturing him…watching the deaths of his fellow Templars…

         He shook his head and returned to the present. Solona had gone, taking her fellow Warden with her. The tightening in his chest worsened. He had pushed her out of his mind for a long time, hoping that the pain that came with thinking about her would fade, but one day he had discovered that Hawke’s mother was once an Amell, related to the Hero of Ferelden herself, and it had brought all the memories flooding back. He often laid awake at night, wondering what he should and shouldn’t have done. A part of him felt that her becoming a Warden had been _his_ fault. He was the one who told Irving about her suspicious behaviour after all. She may have still been a Circle Mage had he kept his mouth shut. Perhaps he could have plucked up the courage to make a move…to tell her how he felt…to say…well, _something_ other than word-vomit that seemed to come out of his mouth every time he was around her.

         But it may just have saved her. She was not there when Uldred revolted against the Circle. She escaped the torture he endured. Perhaps if she had stayed, she may have suffered the same fate as him, or worse. It was what he told himself anyway, allowing him to sleep at night.

         “This way!” Meredith ordered, lifting her sword for her men to follow. They made their way to the Gallows, where many mages lay dead on the stone floor, scattered about like fallen leaves. Ahead of them was Hawke and a handful of his companions, along with an impressive-looking elven mage Cullen had only met once before. “First Enchanter Orsino. You survive.”

         Orsino’s jaw hardened at the sight of her and all the Templars behind her. “Your relief overwhelms me, Knight-Commander,” he answered dryly.

         “There is no time for talk,” she said sternly, waving him aside. “We must strike back against these creatures before it is too late.”

         Orsino wrinkled his nose. “And who will lead us into this battle? _You?_ ”

         Meredith rolled her shoulders. “I will fight to defend this city as I have always done.”

         Cullen looked to her, watching as she stood tall against a mage, facing off against him with such power emanating from her. He was in awe. _I hope I can be that strong one day_. He copied her, squaring his shoulders, ready should the mage try anything.

         “To _control it_ you mean,” said Orsino. “I won’t have our lives tossed to the flames to feed your vanity.”

         Hawke appeared out of nowhere and jumped in between the two. “I won’t have you two at each other’s throats. _I’m_ in charge.”

         Meredith snorted. “ _You?_ You’re not even of this city!”

         “Neither am I,” said Orsino, moving to stand beside Hawke, “yet I don’t hear you complaining about us both fighting to defend our home.”

         Tensions rose again, and Cullen took a step forward, standing right behind his commander. She shrugged. “Very well. Whatever you plan, be quick about it.”

         Hawke nodded his thanks. “We need to find out why the Qunari are gathering hostages in the Keep.”

         “An excellent choice,” said Meredith, and automatically took the lead before anyone else could. “Let’s move quickly.”

***

Orsino—against the wishes of the Templars—created a distraction for the Qunari guarding the outside of the Keep. He unleashed great masses of fire from his hands, sending Qunari screaming and flailing about, desperately trying to put out the flames against their bare skin. The sight sent a jolt of fear through Cullen, shooting adrenaline through his veins. The urge to use his Templar powers to stop the First Enchanter surged, but he held his ground as his Knight-Commander did nothing, but kept a close eye on him.

         Hawke, his companions, and the Templars crept around the Qunari as they deserted their post, and burst through the Keep’s huge doors. Inside, they were met by another horde of Qunari, guarding the inside. Cullen raised his blade and jumped into battle beside Hawke and his companions. They cut their way through the Qunari, each room filled with more and more grey-skinned giants as they made their way to the back of the Keep, where the Arishok seemed to be waiting for them with the hostages. He was surrounded by bigger brute Qunari who looked tougher to kill than those they had just fought past. But it was not the sight of his men that shocked them all, nor the hostages huddled together in the centre of the room, kept in place by spears.

         It was the Viscount’s head in his hands.

         Cullen almost vomited at the sight of it, the urge to gag rising in his throat. He looked away as blood dripped onto the floor by the Arishok’s feet. The Arishok greeted Hawke as they walked in, but treated him no differently to any other people in the room. He commanded a handful of his men to fight Hawke, to prove he was worthy of speaking to when he asked. Hawke and his companions had no trouble keeping the Qunari away, defeating them quickly. Cullen commanded the Templars to stand by the hostages, ensuring none of them were harmed.

         “Parshaara!” the Arishok shouted, descending the stairs towards Hawke. “You are basalit-an after all. Few in this city command such respect. So tell me, Hawke: You know I am denied Par Vollen until the Tome of Koslun is found. How would you see this conflict resolved without it?”

         A skimpily-dressed woman wearing a bandana, a shirt that barely fit her curvaceous body, and thigh-high boots strode into the room, clutching a large tome under her arm. “I believe _I_ can answer that.”

         Cullen jerked back in surprise. _That’s one of Hawke’s companions! Isabella! Did she have the Tome all along?_

         She walked right up to the Arishok and handed the tome over. “I’m sure you’ll find it’s mostly undamaged.”

         The Arishok took it from her eagerly, examining it in his large hands. “The Tome of Koslun,” he whispered. “The relic is reclaimed. I am now free to return to Par Vollen—with the thief.”

         “ _What?_ ” spluttered the pirate.

         “She stole the Tome of Koslun. She must return with us.”

         _Just give her to him,_ Cullen pleaded silently. His entire body was on edge, eyes flicking about from Qunari to Qunari, watching for any signs of another battle starting. _She betrayed you and caused this whole mess._

         But Hawke had other plans. “You have your relic. She stays with us.”

         The Arishok bowed his head. “Then you leave me no choice. I challenge you, Hawke. You and I will battle to the death, with her as the prize.”

         _This just keeps getting worse and worse._

         “No!” shouted Isabella. “If you’re going to duel anyone, duel me!”

         The Arishok turned his nose up at her. “You are not basalit-an. You are unworthy.”

         Before Isabella could protest any further, Hawke stepped forward. “I accept your challenge.”

         _He must be mad!_

         “Meravas! So it shall be!”

         Hawke whipped out his staff as everybody moved back, the Templars forming a wall between the Qunari and the hostages. Cullen grabbed Hawke’s companions that refused to move back with them, dragging them behind the line of armoured men and women.

         _Maker, let him win_ , Cullen prayed. _Maker, give him strength. Help us be rid of these primal creatures._

         Cullen needn’t have prayed, however. For a mage, Hawke was an excellent fighter. He summoned all the elements to his will, throwing everything he had at the Arishok. The great brute never stood a chance. Although he was more muscular and hardier than Hawke, he was slow, and that was his downfall.

         The Arishok collapsed onto the stairs behind him, his weapon flying out of his hand. Bleeding heavily, he growled, “One day, we shall return,” pointing at Hawke with a blood-stained hand before his eyes closed and his body went limp, never to move again. Hawke glared at the Qunari watching, who nodded in reply, and swiftly left the place.

         The nobles behind Cullen erupted into cheers. “The city has been saved!”

         Meredith approached Hawke, hand extended. “Well done,” she said as Hawke shook her hand. “It appears Kirkwall has a new champion.”


	29. Chapter 29

_29 – Solona_

Alistair slumped on one side of his throne, his head resting on his hand as he listened to Teagan, Eamon, and his advisors drone on about issues in Ferelden. Solona stood beside Teagan, trying to look interested, but it was difficult. She needn’t have been there at all, but she stayed, for Alistair’s sake. _If he has to suffer through boring briefings, so will I_.

         “I must also inform you that there have been updates on the situation with the Qunari that happened in Kirkwall several months ago,” said Teagan. “A new champion has been named: Hawke, a refugee from Ferelden, originally from Lothering.”

         _My cousin is doing well for himself,_ she thought, before her mind wandered to what had happened that day. Her gut twisted guiltily. _I can’t believe I walked away._ Since becoming Commander of the Grey, she had been forced to take on a role that compromised a lot of her beliefs. _I should have stayed and helped those people_. Perhaps less people could have died in the attack… _I turned my back where I could have helped, all because the Order is not supposed to get involved with political matters._ She curled in on herself as disgust creeped up on her. _What the hell was the fifth Blight then? I, a Grey Warden, decided who ruled Ferelden and Orzammar! If those aren’t political matters, then I don’t know what is._

         “How is the situation with Orlais?” asked Eamon.

         “A civil war is brewing,” answered Teagan. “Empress Celene is doing her best to control it, but the country is not the most stable place at the present time. And there are rumours that they want to get their lost province back.”

         “Well, we won’t let that happen, will we, Alistair?” asked Eamon.

         “No,” Alistair grunted in reply. “I guess we’ll have to deal with them at some point, right?”

         Teagan felt back his annoyance with pursed lips. “You will need to start making public appearances more, to show your people that you actually _care_ about them.”

         “I do care,” Alistair retorted, sitting up. “I didn’t help Ferelden defeat the Blight without caring for them! This is my home!”

         “Then you should be more inclined to show such affection by taking your duties seriously.”

         Alistair glared at Teagan. “I didn’t want this position, but trust me when I say I am taking my duty to this country _very_ seriously.” He rose from his throne. “So seriously that I’m going on a trip to visit fellow Fereldens affected by the Blight, in the Free Marches. It’s been too long since I said I was going to see them. You can handle things here for a while, Teagan.”

         Solona smiled at him. _Look at him, taking charge. What a rebel. …I should follow his example._ Perhaps she needed a break from the Grey Wardens for a while, just as Alistair clearly wanted a break from Ferelden and Teagan’s nagging. In a way, Teagan reminded her a lot of the Order, always nagging at her for doing things differently to the way they wanted.

         “I’ll go with you,” she said as Alistair descended the stairs.

         “But…the Grey Wardens—”

         “Can handle things without me for a while,” she said cheekily, making him grin. “I’ll put Nathaniel and Carver in charge whilst I’m away.”

         “Excellent! It’ll be like old times! You and I on the road again!”

         “Except this time you’ll have a guard of men with you, _your Highness_.”

         Alistair pouted. “Stop taking the fun out of it!”

         She giggled and followed him out of the throne room, where they both prepared to leave for Kirkwall as soon as possible.

***

They arrived in Kirkwall about a week or so later, accompanied by an escort of Alistair’s guards, who watched him and those around them very closely. “Kings have enemies everywhere, your Majesty,” they would reply whenever Alistair complained about how they never gave him two seconds of privacy.

         The second they got off the boat, stepping onto the docks, Solona sighed with relief. The city was recovering well from the attack. She noticed a lot less people working around the docks however. _I should have stayed_ , she told herself sternly. _I’ll never abandon a place again, no matter what the Order says._

         They were escorted through the streets, where people clapped, cheered, and bowed in their presence. Solona smiled and waved politely along with Alistair, used to the attention by now. She was the fabled Hero of Ferelden, and everyone loved a hero, especially from a foreign land.

         Stopping here and there, Alistair spotted Fereldens in amongst the crowd and pulled each of them aside to tell them that he had not forgotten about them. “I am sorry about what happened,” he would say. “You are welcome back any time. Ferelden is safe now.”

         They reached the Keep at the very top of the city in Hightown, where a small army of Templars were waiting for them on the front steps.

         “How did they know we were coming?” Alistair whispered. “I didn’t tell anyone…”

         “Word must travel fast here,” Solona answered with a shrug.

         Tension was thick in the air as they approached the Templars, most of which Solona felt upon her shoulders as almost every Templar looked at her and her staff attached to her back harness of her Grey Warden armour. _These people must not like mages very much_. It reminded her of the Circle in Ferelden, how the Templars would watch the mages very closely. She shrugged off the stares and kept her eyes on Alistair a few steps ahead of her.

         Inside, more Templars awaited them. Solona froze at the sight of them all. Again, their eyes went straight to her staff, and then her. She tensed up beside Alistair, rigid as a pole, shoulders up by her ears. He must have noticed because he looked at her with a sympathetic smile and squeezed her arm comfortingly, as if to say, _they won’t hurt you_.

         _Easy for you to say_. _You’re an ex-templar who doesn’t possess magic, and the King of Ferelden. No one will hurt_ you.

         The woman at the very top of the steps leading in the centre of the Keep had a glare so intense it was as though her eyes were daggers, cutting into her skin. Fear bubbled in Solona’s chest as she realised just how many Templars were around them, bringing her back to her Circle days where they intimidated her to keep her in place. But she was the _Hero of Ferelden_ , Commander of the Grey. She was not to be intimidated by a _Templar._ So she held herself tall ignoring the woman staring at her icily.

         “King Alistair,” said the woman called Meredith, blond hair peeking out from beneath her red hood. “We did not expect your arrival.”

         “Well it was supposed to be a _surprise_ ,” Alistair replied jokingly, but the smile was wiped clean off his face as Meredith continued to glare at him. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I came to offer my condolences to the people of Ferelden who fled here during the Blight…and to ask for your help. Kirkwall needs united leaders to help it through the aftereffects of a Qunari, and without a viscount for me to speak to—”

         “You will have no such thing!” she barked.

         Alistair blinked. “Excuse me?”

         Meredith wrinkled her nose at him. “You openly associate yourself with apostates,” she jutted her head at Solona, “and thus stir up every mage outside of your kingdom. What other answer did you expect, your Majesty?”

         “A ‘maybe’ might have been nice.”

         “I do not deal in ‘maybes’. I deal in cold, hard facts—as should you. Perhaps when Ferelden next chooses a king, it will be one that takes his duty to the Maker seriously.”

         The Templar turned to walk away, but Solona, unable to believe what was just said in front of her, stepped forward. “Who the hell do you think you are?” she shouted, stopping the woman dead in her tracks. “You speak of mages as if we’re scum—dangerous criminals, even. Your beliefs are certainly twisted, but do not forget who you’re talking to! This is the _king_ of Ferelden. Hero of the Fifth Blight! Insult my people if you wish, but you dare insult my best friend!”

         Alistair stepped forward to whisper in her ear, “Let it go, Solona,” but she did not desist.

         “No, Alistair, this woman needs to learn what respect is.” She turned back to the Templar, who looked as though Solona had slapped her across the face. “You may be in charge of this city, but if you want respect of your own, you need to earn it.”

         “And what would a mage know about respect?” Meredith spat.

         “A lot more than a Knight-Commander of the Templars apparently,” Solona retorted.

         The Keep’s front doors opened. “Cousin! Stirring up trouble, are we?”

         Solona turned to see Hawke, Anders, a guardswoman, and a woman dressed in provocative clothing walk in the Keep.

         “Hawke!” Solona grinned.

         “Wait…” said Alistair, eyes flicking between the two. “You’re related?”

         “I’ll catch you up later,” Solona replied, still smiling at Hawke. “It’s good to see you again.”

         “I now have a fancy title too! Doing the Amell’s proud I’d say.”

         Meredith backed away. “I shall take my leave,” she said curtly, swiftly leaving the Keep and taking her Templars with her. The tension in the room immediately lifted.

         Solona descended the steps towards her cousin and embraced him. “Champion of Kirkwall, eh? Nice.”

         “Not as good as the _Hero of Ferelden,_ but it’ll do.”

         Solona turned to Alistair. “This is Hawke, my second cousin on my mother’s side. Hawke, this is King Alistair of Ferelden, Hero of the Fifth Blight, son of Maric the Saviour.”

         “Alistair would’ve done just fine,” Alistair joked, extending his hand. “Good to meet you, Hawke.”

         Hawke shook his hand. “How do you do, your Majesty?”

         Alistair shrugged. “I’ve been better. Manlier too, come to think of it.”

         Anders walked up and embraced Solona. “Commander, good to see you again.”

         “And you,” she replied, letting go. She looked back at her old friend to see dark circles encasing his eyes. Something was off about him. He was more reserved, less…well, less of his joker self. He did not smile, nor did he attempt to.

         “So, you’re a king now? Moving up in the world!” said the pirate woman behind the mage.

         Solona gasped. “Isabella? Is that you?”

         “I thought you’d remember me,” she replied with a wink. “I could hardly forget you two.”

         Alistair and Solona shared an awkward glance before clearing their throats. “Ah, yes. Good to see you too, Isabella,” said Alistair, unable to look her in the eye. “I was hoping we could talk,” he said to Hawke. “Would’ve been better timing before being emasculated by Meredith, but I’m not picky.”

         “I’m surprised you’d even know who I am,” said Hawke.

         “I know you came here from Lothering. A Ferelden refugee that did well for himself, against all odds. I have to admit I was hoping your influence in Kirkwall might be of use. Things…haven’t been going well with Orlais. Without a viscount here, however, there’s only the Knight-Commander to deal with.”

         “You were arguing about mages with Meredith,” said Anders. “What was that about?”

         Alistair shook his head. “Yes, well, apparently I don’t feel the same way about mages as the Chantry does.” He looked at Solona, who smiled back at him. “So we’re in disagreement. That means they get nasty. They’re like that. Any who, we’ll see what comes of it. Ferelden had a Blight to contend with. We’re not exactly at our strongest right now.”

         “A lot of your people fled to Kirkwall, you know,” said Hawke.

         Alistair hung his head. “I know. I wish I could have helped them.”

         Solona patted his shoulder. “You did. We stopped the Blight and made it safe for them to return home, if they wish.”

         “The Blight devastated the kingdom, and afterwards…well, it hasn’t exactly been peaceful.”

         Solona nodded, understanding what he meant. Ferelden, although recovering from the Blight, was not completely at peace as one had expected it to be. Some people still revolted against Alistair’s rule. A lot of people were still recovering worse than others and demanded help where there was none to give. Alistair was like a chunk of meat, pieces ripped from him by hungry wolves, here there and everywhere until only the bone was left, and people were still fighting over _that_.

         “Do you really think there’s something _I_ can do?” asked Hawke.

         “Sadly, it may be too late. Meredith got wind of my arrival sooner than I’d hoped. What you can do is protect Kirkwall. It will take someone like you to keep it from falling apart.”

         “Protect Kirkwall from _what_ exactly?”

         Alistair snorted. “If you ask me, the biggest threat to this city just walked out the door. But maybe that’s the ex-Templar in me talking.” He sighed, turning to Solona. “Well, I suppose we should be getting back.”

         Solona stayed silent, her mind torn. _I don’t want to go back._ If she went back, she would have to go back to being Commander of the Grey, an important figure who had to make hard decisions that she did not always agree with. She needed time away from the Wardens, just as Alistair wanted time away from being king.

         “I think I will stay here,” Solona said quietly. Alistair frowned. “I think I need a break from being a Warden for a little while. I need time to…well, _think_. And the situation here with the mages…I don’t like it. I want to stay here and help.”

         “But…you’re not coming back to Ferelden?” asked Alistair, his eyes resembling that of a puppy again.

         Solona looked away and shook her head. “Not yet.”

         “You can stay with me, cousin,” said Hawke. “Did I mention I have a mansion now? I have plenty of spare rooms for you to stay in.”

         “Thank you,” she replied. “If it’s not intruding on your hospitality—”

         Hawke slung an arm around her shoulder. “We’re _family!_ it’s what we do, right?”

         A smile crept onto her face. “Yes, it is.”

         Alistair looked hesitant to leave, but his guards urged him to get back to the docks. He embraced Solona and whispered in her ear. “Be careful around Meredith, alright?”

         She pulled away. “I will. Take care of yourself, Alistair.”

         “I’ll try,” he replied, before he was almost dragged away by his guards.


	30. Chapter 30

_30 – Solona_

The minute she stepped inside Hawke estate, her jaw dropped. It was grand and luxurious, expelling wealth in every corner. Grand chandeliers, tall staircases, large fireplaces, expensive rugs. Solona had never seen anything like it before.

         “Wow,” was all she could say over and over as Hawke gave her a quick tour.

         He chuckled. “I know, right? That was my reaction when I first came here. _My mother and Gamlen lived here?_ Crazy.”

         Solona studied a shield hanging on a wall outside Hawke’s bedroom, blazoned with the Amell vigil. “Where is Leandra? It’d be nice to meet her. I’ve always wanted to meet another living member of my family—besides you of course. Where would—” She turned to see the normally cheerful Hawke had fallen silent. “Hawke?”

         “She um…” Hawke squeezed his eyes shut. “S-She…she died.” His hands curled into fists at his sides. “S-She was…she was murdered.”

         Solona’s breath caught in her throat. “Hawke…I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” _Maybe that was why Carver was so nervous about returning to Kirkwall. He never told me._ “I shouldn’t have said anything—”

         Hawke waved away her concern. “It’s fine,” he said with a half-hearted shrug. “She’s with Father now.”

         Solona stepped close and held his hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

         Hawke sniffed, roughly wiping away a tear that escaped his shiny wet eyes. “After Carver left for the Wardens…she was the only family I had left…”

         “You’ve got me, Hawke.”

         Hawke smiled. “Thanks,” he said, and quickly cleared his throat, standing tall again. “Don’t tell anyone about this… I have a reputation you know.”

         Solona giggled. “Wouldn’t dream of it. So, where’s my bedroom?”

         “You’re going to love it,” he said, almost skipping down the stairs. “It’s on the other side of the house unfortunately, but it’s pretty grand, almost as nice as mine!”

         He led her to the other side of his mansion, waving to Bodahn and Sandal who told her over and over again how pleased they were to see her alive after the Blight and how they were honoured to serve her again whilst she stayed with their master. Hawke opened the bedroom door and Solona’s jaw dropped once again. A large four poster bed sat at the other end of the room, embellished with curtains and at least a dozen pillows. Large ornate furniture was scattered around the room, and a large, crackling fireplace covered the room in a flickering orange glow.

         “This is beautiful, Hawke! Are you sure this is _my_ room?”

         “Of course! Anything for my hero cousin! My home is yours whilst you stay here. Orana will be here if you need anything—she’s the elf who likes to hover in the entrance hall to greet any guests I have, along with Bodahn, who doesn’t stop talking about his time with you by the way.”

         “Thank you. This is wonderful.”

         “Just ah…be careful of Meredith whilst you’re here. You may be a hero in Ferelden, but here that name doesn’t carry much weight. If you hadn’t already guessed, Meredith isn’t the greatest fan of those of us that have magic.”

         Solona looked down at herself, dressed in formal Grey Warden mage armour. “Do you by any chance have anything I could borrow?”

         “If you’re suggesting that I like to dress in women’s clothes in my spare time, I’m afraid you’re wrong,” he teased, making her giggle again. “I think I have a shirt and some trousers you could borrow until you can get yourself something from Hightown. I’m sure being Commander of the Grey pays well.” He disappeared out the room and returned a few minutes later with a loose white shirt and a pair of red trousers. “You can wear them with the boots and gloves you’re wearing. They don’t scream _I’m a Grey Warden_ by themselves.”

         “They’ll do just fine, thanks.” She slipped behind an ornate screen beside a large wardrobe and shrugged off her armour, a great weight lifted from her shoulders. She pulled on Hawke’s shirt and tucked it into his rather tight-fitting trousers, even for her. With her boots and gloves, she looked like the average person walking around Kirkwall. She could be just like anyone else.

         She walked out from behind the screen and asked, “What do you think?” Giving Hawke a little twirl.

         “You look great! Who knew my shirts looked good on women? I need to try that with Isabella sometime…” He looked away distantly for a moment or two, before snapping back to the conversation. “Anyway, I thought Anders could show you around Kirkwall. He told me you were the one who conscripted him into the Wardens.”

         “Yes, to save him from the Templars.”

         “Nice. Maybe you could conscript all mages and make them Grey Wardens?”

         Solona laughed. “That’s not a bad idea.”

         Hawke turned to leave. “Anders should be downstairs waiting for you,” he said, disappearing out the door again. “See you later for supper!”

         After hanging her Grey Warden armour in a wardrobe beside her bed, she strolled out of the room to find the blond mage with a pony tail, dressed in feathered robes, waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

         “So, I hear you need a tour guide?” he said, offering his arm.

         She took it, fingers squeezing his arm gently. “That I do! Care to show me around?”

         “It’ll be my pleasure.”

         Over the course of that day, Anders showed her every part of Kirkwall, from the lavish streets of Hightown to the dirty and rubbish-littered roads of Lowtown. It broke her heart to see the alienage, where the city elves circled around their sacred tree. _It looks like alienages are bad wherever you are in Thedas_. It was dirtier and smaller than Lowtown, the elves hungry and overworked. _Why humans tread over elven kind, I’ll never know_. She had often conscripted elves in alienages to help them escape their fate, but she could not conscript them all, especially when there was no Blight to fight.

         Although it was exciting to be shown around a place she had never visited before, there was something nagging at the back of her mind. Anders was not his laughable self. He seldom made jokes or even smiled. After the tour drew to a close by the docks, she pulled Anders aside, taking a seat together on the steps leading down in the water that sloshed against the stone by their toes.

         “Okay, what’s up with you?” she asked. He frowned, about to object, but she cut him off. “How stupid do you think I am, Anders? Something isn’t right with you. What’s wrong?”

         “Nothing, I—”

         Solona narrowed her eyes sternly.

         Anders sighed heavily, smoothing back stray pieces of golden hair. “Alright. It’s just…there’s so much injustice in this place. The mages here…they’re treated like _animals_. You probably don’t remember—we never actually spoke since I tried to escape several times—but I was in Ferelden’s Circle with you, in Kinloch Hold. I don’t know if you knew him, but my friend, Karl, was made Tranquil a few years ago simply for contacting me. That was when the viscount was alive. Now…now things have gotten worse and _worse_.” His breathing deepened, his shoulders squaring. “The rite of tranquillity is being abused. It’s being used to silence and control mages, like a punishment. That’s not what it’s for.” His voice became distant and deep, and a sudden blue glow emanated from him, snaking over his skin like veins. “They need justice for what happened to them! The Templars need to pay for what they’re doing! As do the Chantry who sit back and let it happen!”

         Solona recoiled away from him, shuffling back across the step. She recognised that voice. It was one she had not heard in many years. The last time she had heard it, it had come from Grey Warden Kristoff’s dead body…

         “J-Justice?” she spluttered. “Is that you?”

         Anders turned, his eyes glowing bright blue. “Solona. It is good to see you again.”

         “A-Anders…you…y-you’re…”

         The mage shook his head, the glow disappearing. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “That sometimes happens.”

         “You’re an abomination!” she hissed. “Since when did you…why is he…what the hell?” she cried. “Why is Justice _inside of you_?”

         “He needed a body,” he answered bluntly. “Kristoff’s was failing him, and he agreed with my goal to help free mages from the Templars’ chains.”

         “So you…you _let him in your body?_ Anders, that’s…” She shook her head at him in disbelief. “Are you both alright?”

         “We’re fine,” he said quickly. “Well…I’m not so sure. I think he’s changed—Justice I mean. Before he was…well, you know. We spent time with him. But now… Ever since I agreed to share my body… It’s as if he’s become twisted. He found my hatred towards Templars and it warped him. I don’t think he’s a spirit of Justice anymore. He’s more like…Vengeance. Sometimes he takes over and attacks without my permission. His thoughts are mine and mine are his. It’s like I can’t tell who is who. Am I Justice or am I Anders?”

         Solona shuffled back towards him, placing a hand on his arm. “If he’s causing you this much trouble, can you not separate him from your body?”

         Anders shrugged. “Not without killing me. But perhaps there is a way and I’ll find it one day. For now, I’m more concerned with Meredith and her Templars. Which reminds me,” he got to his feet and held out a hand to her. “I’m yet to show you the Gallows.”

***

It was a place Solona wished she had never set foot in. The same thick tension that filled the air in the Keep hit her like a sack of flour as she walked into the Gallows. Templars patrolled the grounds, watching mages that hung about here and there. They kept their eyes down if a Templar passed, not daring to look them in the eye. Fear was evident in this place, and Solona felt some of it herself, her body recoiling in on itself. She hugged herself with her arms. _Anders was telling the truth._

         “See what I mean?” he whispered. “This place just shows you how bad those mages inside have it.”

         “What about you?” she asked. “Aren’t you worried you’ll be taken away by the Templars?”

         “My association with Hawke protects me—for now. You on the other hand need to be more careful. Not many people know you’re related to him, so just watch yourself. I’d hate to have to rescue you from Meredith’s clutches.”

         Solona snorted. “Not a chance that’ll happen.”

         They walked about, visiting stalls and admiring the huge, copper-coloured statues that towered over the place. She relaxed as no one stopped to stare at her. Without her Grey Warden armour, it was much less obvious who she was, and no one recognised her…

         Except one person.

         “Solona?” said a voice, one that made her very heart stop.

         She turned to see a familiar-looking Templar gawping at her, as he stood watch by the steps leading up to Kirkwall’s Chantry. Cullen’s hazel eyes widened in surprise, his blond hair still curly on his head.

         She blinked at him. “Cullen?”

         “You know each other?” asked Anders, glaring at the Templar.

         “Yes, he was in the Circle with us, at Kirkwall.”

         “We’ve never met,” Anders said curtly. “If we have, I wouldn’t remember him. All Templars are the same to me. Anyway, I’d rather spent as little time as possible in this depressing place. I’ll meet you back at Hawke’s.” With a small wave he walked away, leaving Solona and Cullen alone.

         An awkward silence settled between them, neither one knowing what to say. “So,” she said eventually. “How have you been?”

         “Better,” he replied, unable to look her in the eye, cheeks flushing pink. “I didn’t recognise you at first. I’ve never seen you in anything but robes, or your Grey Warden armour.”

         “I needed a break from the stresses of being _Commander Amell_ for a while. I just want to blend in and be myself for a bit before I go back.”

         “Where are you staying?”

         “With Hawke at his estate.” She kicked a stone with the tip of her boot as silence fell between them again. She looked at him from beneath her long lashes to see his scars and bruises had healed slightly. He had a prominent scar on his top lip however, one that her eyes became drawn to. It made him look older, more worn. Her palms became sweaty inside her gloves. She quickly slipped them off and wiped her hands on her trousers.

         “Are you enjoying working here?” she asked, attempting to keep a conversation going.

         “It’s better than Ferelden,” he admitted. “You get more freedom here. Less restrictions about how to handle mages.”

         She frowned. “I see.”

         “I was promoted to Knight-Captain within a year of my arrival here. Meredith says I have much potential.”

         “I’m sure she does,” she said dryly. Not liking where the conversation was going, she decided to end it there. “Well, I’d better be off. I said I’d join Hawke for supper.” She turned on her heel and examined the streets behind her. “I just need to go…uh… Damn, I’ve forgotten the way already.”

         “I can take you there,” Cullen said quickly, jumping to her side. “I know the way.”

         “Um…okay. Thanks.”

         They walked side by side through the streets of Kirkwall towards Hightown, conversing in small talk. Solona wanted to say so much to him, but held back, unsure how he would react. _The last time I saw him, he was a state. Broken and wild. I want to know if he’s doing well but…how do I ask him that?_ Cullen seemed to want to say a lot to her as well, but kept shaking his head and looking away every time his lips opened to speak.

         “Look, Cullen,” she said, stopping him beside a statue of Andraste, “about what happened, back in Ferelden—”

         “I must apologise,” Cullen blurted. “The things I said then…how I saw you…I cannot tell you how sorry I am. For everything.”

         Solona parted her lips in surprise. _A Templar apologising to a mage. Who’d have thought it?_ “There’s nothing to apologise for,” she assured him. “I know you had a really tough time back then. I wish I could have helped in some way, but what’s done is done.”

         “I can’t. I said terrible things to you. I didn’t mean any of them, I swear.”

         She held a hand up to stop him. “It’s in the past, Cullen. I forgave you long ago.”

         Cullen offered his arm. “We’re almost there.” Solona took up his offer, and they continued their walk. Before long they arrived outside Hawke Estate.

         “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said, letting go of his armoured arm. “I need to learn my way around.”

         Cullen smiled softly. “If you need my help getting around, I’m happy to be your guide.”

         She returned his smile. “I might have to take you up on that.” She looked back at the door behind her. “Well, I should go. Hopefully I’ll see you around sometime.”

         “Tomorrow, maybe?” he asked quickly. “In Lowtown there’s a tavern called the Hanged Man. I finish my shift in the evening. Perhaps I’ll see you there?” He blushed a rosy shade of pink. “I mean, only if you want to… you’re by no means obligated to… you can say no… I mean…”

         Solona chuckled. “I’ll be there tomorrow evening,” she said, before letting herself inside Hawke’s mansion.


	31. Chapter 31

_31 – Cullen_

Cullen patrolled through the Gallows alone. Usually he had no problem keeping watch on the mages that floated about the place, but today his mind was elsewhere. _I asked a mage to spend time with me…alone._ _If anyone should see me…_ He felt torn, pulled in two directions. His heart had spoken before his head, and asked her to the Hanged Man that evening. But his mind thought of Meredith, and what she would do if she ever found out he had even spoken to a mage kindly without a threat or insult to keep them in their place.

         _Solona isn’t like other mages,_ he told himself. _They aren’t people. She helped save other mages from themselves back in Ferelden. Despite being a mage herself, she understands that, I’m sure of it._

         He had not seen Solona in several years. He _had_ to spend time with her whilst he could. She would no doubt disappear again before long, and the thought of never seeing her again…it made his heart ache. _Oh, Maker…I’ll take the risk of discovery and go._

         After his shift that evening, he changed out of his armour that he wore ninety percent of the time and into a loose shirt and trousers—casual clothes where he could blend into the crowd without people realising who he was. Everyone was so used to him in uniform, they took no notice of him as he left the Gallows towards Lowtown, as if he were a citizen like everyone else. _If they’re fooled, I hope the other Templars are too._ He kept his head down, however, just in case.

         Inside, the Hanged Man was a lively and musical place. Musicians played their flutes and drums in the centre of the room by a crackling fireplace that kept the place warm. People drank and sung and played cards, chatting up barmaids and laughing at one another’s jokes.

         Cullen’s eyes scanned the room and found Solona almost instantly, automatically drawn to her. She sat with a beardless dwarf and a provocatively dressed pirate, laughing away whilst playing their own game of cards. As he squeezed his way through the tables towards her, their conversation grew louder.

         “I’ve never played a game of cards quite like this!” Solona said through a giggle, waving her cards about.

         The dwarf laughed too. “That’s Wicked Grace for you! You’re pretty good for a newbie.”

         “Beginner’s luck,” the pirate grumbled, throwing her cards down moodily. It made Solona and the dwarf laugh harder.

         “Don’t be a sore loser, Isabella!” said the dwarf. “Just because you’ve had to buy the last three rounds of drinks!”

         “I’ll be out of pocket by the end of the night,” she grumbled, before flouncing off to the bar.

         Cullen finally reached their table. “Uh…excuse me. Hi. I uh…”

         Solona looked up at him. “Cullen! I thought you weren’t going to make it!”

         He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I uh…sorry about that. I had to change out of my uniform so I could…well it doesn’t matter.”

         The dwarf got to his feet. “I’ll leave you two to it.” He offered his seat opposite Solona and then left the table.

         Cullen hesitantly sat down. He could not help but feel that one of Meredith’s spies may be lurking about, watching him, or a fellow Templar might recognise him. But the second he looked into Solona’s mystical blue eyes, all his worry fizzled away. He was struck by her beauty. Her face was dotted with many battle scars, one most prominently over her eyebrow and lightly grazed the top of her cheek beneath her eye. She tucked her ink-black hair behind her ear to reveal another scar that ran along her jaw. _She’s seen her fair share of action,_ he realised.

         “I’ll get us some drinks,” she said before he could say anything, and rushed over to the bar. She returned a few minutes later with two tankards of ale in her hand, and slid one across the table to him. “It’s good stuff. Not as good as Ferelden’s ale but I might be bias.” She took a slurp and Cullen copied. He was not much of a drinker, his position not allowing him much time to sit back and enjoy a drink with the recruits as most did in the Blooming Rose in Hightown, but he drank his ale anyway to blend in.

         “So, how’s your day been?” she asked.

         “Good,” he replied, taking another nervous sip of ale, the tankard shaking in his hands. “I helped Meredith track down a blood mage outside Kirkwall, then patrolled the Gallows for the rest of the day.”

         Solona nodded. “I spent the day with Varric and Isabella, learning how to play a card game called Wicked Grace. It was tricky but I think I’ve got the hang of it.”

         Silence fell between them once again. It was becoming a reoccurring theme. One would speak, then the other, then they’d fall into awkward silence.

         “It’s good to see you out of uniform,” she said, taking him by surprise. He blushed as he noticed her eyes lingering on his chest, exposed slightly as he had forgotten to tie it all the way up in a rush to meet her here. “It makes you look normal.”

         “That’s what I was going for,” he replied. “Normal.”

         “Same,” she said, gesturing to her clothes. She wore a different shirt of Hawke’s this time. A black one, tucked into the same red trousers. “It’s nice to walk around and no one know who you are. Sometimes anonymity is bliss.”

         “Is it that bad?” he asked. “Being the Hero of Ferelden.”

         She shrugged. “It’s worse being Commander of the Grey.”

         He frowned. “You don’t like your position?”

         Her fingers played with the edge of her tankard. “Not at all. I hate making the tough decisions that usually compromise how I personally feel about a situation. I’ve done things I regret in the name of my Order and it tears me apart sometimes.” She took a large swig of ale, wiping her mouth afterwards. “So, Templar,” she said, changing the subject, “tell me about yourself.”

         He blinked. “W-What do you mean?”

         “We lived together in Ferelden’s Circle Tower but hardly spoke to one another. I literally know nothing about you besides your name.”

         He cleared his throat and smoothed down his hair. “Well uh…what did you want to know?”

         “Family, life before the Templars, interests…anything really.”

         Taking a deep breath, he relaxed and opened up to her. He started from the beginning, where he was a child growing up in Honnleath with his parents and three siblings (Branson, Mia, and Rosalie), before being recruited into the Templars and joining Kinloch Hold’s Order. She listened to everything he said without interrupting, his cheeks feeling hot the longer she stared at him without breaking eye contact.

         “Wow, so becoming a Templar was your childhood dream eh?” she said.

         “I wanted to help people,” he said. “This profession was an admirable one, and one I was lucky to break into, being a boy from a small village with no formal training whatsoever.”

         Solona giggled. “I’m trying to imagine a little Cullen swinging a sword about, desperately trying to impress the village Templars! How cute!”

         Cullen blushed harder, using his hand to shield his face as he quickly smoothed his curls down again. “I ah…ahem…yes, I suppose that is…cute.”

         “It is!”

         “What about you?” he asked. “What of your family?”

         She put down her tankard, her smile fading. “I was taken from my mother at a young age. I don’t remember much of her now, only that her name was Revka Amell and that she had the same long, black hair that I do.” She ran a hand through her hair, before resting her chin upon a fist resting on the table between them. “I did a lot of research when my new position granted me much freedom. I found out that she had other children after me—though I don’t know if they have the same father as I do. I also discovered that her name, Amell, carries much weight in Kirkwall. Hawke’s mother, Leandra, was my mother’s cousin. A noble family. Carver and Hawke are my second cousins.”

         Cullen watched her sadly, his heart aching as the smile completely fell from her pretty face. He had not realised before now how upsetting it must have been for young mages to be ripped away from their families, never to see them again.

         “So, you might have siblings,” he said.

         She nodded. “I could find nothing about them, only that they were all found to have magic as I do and were probably carted off to another Circle somewhere. Perhaps here in Kirkwall, Orlais, or even Ferelden. Who knows. I don’t even know their names so I cannot ask about to learn where they are.”

         Cullen instinctively reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry.”

         She chuckled. “For what? You haven’t done anything.”

         He shook his head. “It was I who caused you to become what you are, a Grey Warden. If I hadn’t said anything to Irving…”

         Her eyes widened. “You’re beating yourself up about that? It happened almost ten years ago, Cullen. If you hadn’t, I probably would have been caught anyway. Jowan would have escaped for good and perhaps things could have been much worse.”

         “What happened to him?” he asked curiously. “To the mage, Jowan. I always wondered what had become of him. I saw him return to Kinloch Hold before I left for Kirkwall, but…”

         She sighed, shoulders slouching. “He’s dead,” she answered. “His fate was to become tranquil. I…I put him out of his misery whilst he was still… _him_. He didn’t want to be tranquil, to lose everything about himself and become an empty shell. So I put a sword through his chest and held him until he died.” She wiped away a tear that trickled down her pale cheek, past her scar. “He’s at peace now, with the Maker.”

         Cullen tilted his head. “He would have rather died than become tranquil?”

         Solona frowned. “If you were threatened with having everything that made you _you_ taken away, being cut off from the Fade—the world of dreams—and losing all emotion, wouldn’t you rather die? I know _I_ certainly would.”

         “They look so peaceful to me.”

         Solona snorted. “They don’t feel peace. They don’t feel _anything_. They’re an empty shell with nothing inside of them anymore. You basically become a slave to whomever made you tranquil. In Jowan’s case, it would’ve been the Templars in charge of Kinloch Hold.”

         Sensing Solona’s anger begin to rise as her grip around her tankard began to tighten, denting the cup slightly, Cullen dropped the subject. “So, how are you finding Kirkwall?”

         “It’s a lot different to Ferelden,” she said, shoulders relaxing from their tensed position up by her ears. She rolled them and relaxed back in her chair. “There’s less greenery here. It’s all pavement and stone rather than mud and grass—which I thought I couldn’t wait to get away from but now I realise how much I miss it.”

         “Have you been to Sundermount?” he asked. She shook her head. “It’s greenery reminds me somewhat of Ferelden. It has open planes and plenty of hills. There’s also a Dalish camp there.”

         “I’ll have to check it out sometime,” she said. “I miss being…well… _outside,_ in the open air.”

         “As do I.”

         They fell silent again but this time, there was no awkwardness. Cullen sensed a smile on her lips as she hid them behind her tankard, taking another sip of ale. He unconsciously smiled too, unable to take this eyes away from the beautiful woman sitting in front of him.

         “You look better, Cullen,” she said, taking him aback. “When I last saw you…well, you know. But now…you look different. Calmer. More relaxed. This place seems to bring out the best in you.”

         “Meredith has given me a safe place to heal from what happened in Ferelden,” he admitted. “It took me a while, but I think I’m better. I see the truth now, and it’s helped me see that I’m not crazy.”

         “See what truth?” she asked, eyes narrowing curiously.

         Cullen cleared his throat, finally looking away from her. “I see that mages are not people. They should be contained before they can think themselves big enough to harm anyone, like Uldred did. Here, they’re kept in line, as they should be. The Templars don’t let the mages walk all over them in Kirkwall’s Circle.”

         Solona stared back at him blankly, sending his heart racing into a panicked frenzy. “ _What_?” she said, raising her voice. “That’s what you think? That we’re all power hungry mages wanting to hurt people wherever we can?”

         “N-Not _you_ ,” he said quickly, leaning across the table to reach out to her again, but she flinched away from him, sitting as far back in her chair as possible, as if to get away from him. “ _You’re_ not like that!”

         She laughed hollowly. “Oh no, Cullen. You can’t ignore the fact that I’m a mage, because that’s what _I am_. I may not have my staff with me right now, but I’m still mage who can manipulate the world around her with fire and ice and telepathy!” She shot to her feet, the chair behind her scraping loudly against the stone flood, causing nearby tavern-goers to stop what they were doing and stare over at them. “If you insult one mage like that, you insult us all,” she shouted, glaring down at him as he sat frozen in his seat. “You can’t leave me out of a category just because you think you know me—which by the way, you _don’t_. If this twisted way of thinking is how you feel about my people then I want nothing more to do with you, Cullen Rutherford.” With that, she stormed away from him and left the tavern, leaving him staring numbly after her.

         Realising that half the people in the tavern were still staring at him, including some of Hawke’s companions, he swiftly left the tavern after her.

         He caught up with her as she stormed up the steps towards Hightown. “Solona, wait!” he called after her. “Solona!”

         She stopped, hands in fists by her sides. “What?” she said, whirling round at him, eyes glowing with rage.

         “I’m sorry for what I said, okay? I’m—”

         “No, you’re not. You’re sorry you upset me, not sorry for what you said. Don’t apologise for what you believe, Cullen. If that’s how you feel, then that’s that. We can’t be friends.”

         She tried to walk away but he grabbed her hand. “You want nothing to do with me? Just like that?”

         She glared down at him as he stopped two steps below her. “I want nothing to do with Templars who think that people like me should be locked up in prisons like the Circle you work for simply because they have magic that the _Maker Himself_ gave us. Do you think we asked for this? That we wanted magic that would curse us to a life where people hate and shun us because they’re afraid of what we’re capable of? I see how you feel about mages now, Cullen, and I’m afraid that I can’t be friends with someone who thinks that of me.”

         “I don’t think _you’re_ like that! I know your feelings towards blood mages are the same as mine! You aren’t like other mages. You know what blood magic is capable of!”

         “I do,” she said curtly, “but I’m not the only one. Not all of us are tempted by it. You’d be surprised by the number of mages that hate blood magic as much as I do. Of course, you wouldn’t think that because to you, good mages are a minority. If you actually opened your eyes, Templar, you’d see that blood mages are in the minority, and you’re punishing those who have done nothing. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a revolt against you all because of your racist attitudes.” She yanked her hand from his grasp. “You can put your armour back on now and stop looking over your shoulders for Templars that might spot you talking freely with a mage without a blade to my throat,” she spat. “If you truly don’t think of me like other mages, you wouldn’t have been afraid to come and see me tonight in the armour you always wear proudly.” She spun on her heels and walked away, leaving Cullen staring after her with his jaw down like an idiot. 

***

Cullen walked through Hightown with his hands shoved into his pockets, hazel eyes on the ground. _What have I done?_ His body screamed with torment, torn in many directions. _Do I follow her to Hawke Estate? Do I leave her be? Should I be ashamed of myself? I am and I am not… Oh, Maker, what do I do? How should I feel? Show me the way!_ But his prayers were answered with silence.

         He kicked a loose stone on the ground with the top of his boot, sending it flying away from him. Anger bubbled within him, surging through his veins like fire. He launched himself at a set of barrels propped up against a wall nearby and sent his fist through the top one, sending water splashing everywhere, all over his trousers and boots, but he did not care. He sent his foot into another, and another, cursing himself for how he had acted.

         “Knight-Captain!” said a stern voice, freezing him where he stood, heaving. He turned to see his Knight-Commander standing rigidly behind him. “You dare betray me.”

         Cullen blinked. “B-Betray you?”

         “Fraternising with _mages_!”

         His anger leaked out of him like the water inside barrel he had just smashed. “I was not…there was no fraternising! I only spoke with her!”

         “You are letting your personal feelings cloud your judgement!” Meredith whipped out her blade and pointed the tip at his throat, sending a jolt of fear down his spine. “Do not make me question your loyalty to the Templar Order!”

         “S-She’s an old friend… The Hero of Ferelden! I know she is harmless. She’s just—”

         “She’s a _mage_ , boy. They are all the same. There can be no exceptions. If you do not take your job seriously by letting a little crush get in the way of your duty, you will be facing de-promotion!” She sheathed her blade, allowing Cullen to breathe. “My trust in you is wavering. I’ll be keeping a close eye on you from now on.”

         Cullen followed Meredith back to the Gallows, his mind exploding with thoughts. _Is she right? Am I letting my feelings for Solona cloud my judgement?_ Mages were not people, he knew that. Meredith had told him how right he was to feel that way. But somehow the feeling felt wrong when he was with Solona. She did not seem like a threat to him at all. _Maybe that’s because I love her_. He tensed at the thought. _Do I…love her?_

         Cullen took a deep breath, hardening his heart. _I cannot let these feelings compromise my duty to the Maker. Mages are evil and must be contained. Sorry, Solona._


	32. Chapter 32

_32 – Cullen_

Cullen stood strong in his post, his eyes watching the mages around him in the Gallows. Putting the evening he had spent in the Hanged Man aside, he pledged himself completely to the Templars, ensuring that there could be no distractions. If Solona walked into the Gallows, he swiftly exited. Avoiding her was best, he thought. _Out of sight, out of mind_. He had a duty to the Maker after all. One that could not be avoided.

         A part of him wanted to speak to Solona, to apologise for his actions, but he pushed those feelings away. _I am a Templar and she a mage. Nothing can come of it, so let it be._ It did not stop his heart skipping a beat whenever he saw her, even from a distance. Her very being had wrapped himself around his heart like tendrils, refusing to let go. So he ignored her, and hoped that eventually the feelings would fade.

         As he watched a group of mages passed him, their heads down to avoid his stare, Meredith’s words popped into his mind. _“My trust in you is wavering.”_ He could see why. It was a stupid and foolish thing to do, spending time with Solona, alone, without his armour or a blade to protect him should she turn on him. _I must make her see that I can be trusted_. With that, he left his post and marched up to her office in the Templar quarters of Kirkwall’s Circle.

         He knocked three times before her voice on the other side told him he could enter. As he opened the door, he swore he saw a flash of red as she hastily shoved something beneath her desk, out of sight. “Knight-Captain, is something the matter?” she asked.

         Cullen bowed his head. “I have come to apologise for my actions the other night. You were completely right. I allowed personal feelings to get in the way of my duty and I am severely sorry for that. I promise you it won’t happen again.”

         Meredith’s stern face softened. “I am glad to have made you see reason, boy. I thought perhaps the mages had corrupted your mind, softening you to their advances before they finished you off, or planted you within the order to corrupt us. But I trust that you have seen the light. Well done.”

         He nodded his thanks, but there was something nagging at the back of his mind about that flash of red that he could not ignore. There was a presence in the room that he began to feel…magical energy that felt…wrong. It gripped him like a warmth, spreading from his fingers, along his arms, and up into his chest. He repressed a shudder, as Meredith did not seem to feel the same way. _Perhaps I am just imagining it_.

         “Your actions have shown true loyalty to the Order,” she continued, leaning over the desk, examining papers with scrawls of writing over them. “Everyone has their bumps and hurdles along the way to righteousness…I did once too…but the things you have seen are not to dissimilar to what I have. You understand the threat mages pose. Therefore, I wish that you aid me in a plan I am formulating.”

         Cullen stepped forward curiously, looking at the papers himself. “Of course, Ma’am,” he said.

         Upon many of the papers were the symbol of the rite of tranquillity.  “There is a growing lack of respect for us here,” she said, gauntleted fingers tracing one symbol. “Mages are sneaking out of the Circle, blood mages are on the rise, mage sympathisers are everywhere…we need to make a statement, one that commands respect, even fear.”

         “What were you thinking of?” Cullen asked.

         “This.” She pointed at the symbol. “The rite of tranquillity, to be performed in public to show mages and normal folk alike that we are capable of destroying them, should they act out against us.”

         “In _public_?” Cullen spluttered. “But it is a secret that our order has—”

         She silenced him with a wave of her hand.

         “But who is to be made tranquil?” he asked, unable to help himself as she tried to silence him again. “There have been no requests from Orsino lately about mages that have pledged themselves to it or are deemed dangerous enough to—”

         “We do not need a reason,” she growled. Cullen flinched as he thought he saw a flash of red behind her eyes. “Mages are a danger to those around them and themselves. The second they believe they have any power over us, we are doomed.”

         Cullen opened his mouth to retort, but Meredith spoke over him.

         “Do not question me!” she barked. “I did not make you my second in command to be questioned by you!”

         Cullen swallowed hard. “The people won’t stand for this,” he whispered.

         “Oh they will!” She slammed her fist onto the table, scattering the papers everywhere. “We will strike fear into the hearts of all apostates and blood mages! Imagine the order we will create!”

         _Fear, not order._ Cullen began to feel queasy as unease settled in his stomach. _This isn’t right._

         “We just need the perfect example…to show that even the mightiest of mages cannot fall.”

         _The mightiest of mages?_ “You mean…Serah Hawke?”

         Meredith shook her head with a sigh. “No. He is protected by his titles in this city. But there is another. One whose titles mean nothing here in the Free Marches…”

         Cullen’s breath caught in his throat as he realised who she spoke of. “S-Solona? You can’t… She’s a national hero. She saved Ferelden from the fifth Blight! People will be outraged if you—”

         “But they will see how powerful we are. How we are not to be trifled with.” She looked up at him. “You must help me with this. Lure her into a trap so we can capture her, and then show the world that even the mighty mages will fall!”

         Cullen stepped back. “But she has done no wrong! She is no blood mage, nor is she an apostate! She’s the Commander of the Grey in Ferelden!” His voice broke as he desperately tried to defend her without showing his feelings. “You’ll anger the Grey Wardens.”

         Meredith vaulted over her desk and slammed Cullen against the wall, her hand squeezing his throat. “Do you want to keep your head attached to your shoulders, boy?” she said through bared teeth. “You’re acting like one of those sympathisers. I had not taken you for a fool.”

         Cullen dared not make a move, his eyes wide like a deer about to be killed by an arrow in a hunt. “I cannot do this,” he pleaded.

         “You will because I am telling you do. Do it or I’ll have your armour.”

         Cullen spluttered. “You’ll kick me out?”

         “Prove to me that you truly want this position in our order.” She finally released him. “We have to make difficult choices, but we are protecting ourselves and others. This isn’t Ferelden, Knight-Captain. The mages here are far worse. We must be vigilant.”


	33. Chapter 33

_33 – Solona_

Solona lounged in a sitting room in Hawke’s estate, laying across a plush sofa with her feet propped up on one arm, and her head on the other beside a crackling fireplace. She closed her eyes, allowing both her body and mind to relax. She had been in Kirkwall for several months now, and Nathaniel had written to her several times asking when she was going to return. She was due to write a reply to him, but she could not bring herself to set a date for her return.

         _I like it here_. _Life is easier. There’s no hard decisions or darkspawn to fight_.

         A pair of hands covered her eyes. “Guess who!”

         She giggled. “Hawke! You need to stop doing that!” She playfully shoved him away.

         “You’ve got a letter,” he said, propping himself down on the table in front of the fireplace beside her and handed it over.

         She groaned. “Not another one from Nate complaining about his temporary post I hope.” She sat up so that Hawke could sit beside her. She paused as she did not recognise the writing on the front. “This isn’t from Nathaniel…”

         “Open it, open it!” said Hawke, bouncing up and down in his seat like a child. “Maybe it’s fan mail. Maybe it’s _mine_ but they addressed it to you accidentally.”

         She laughed again. “More like it’ll be hate mail if it was for you,” she joked. Opening the letter by breaking the wax seal, she read it aloud so Hawke would stop leaning over her shoulder.

        

_Solona,_

_Please meet me in the Gallows tonight. Alone._

_There is something we need to discuss._

_Regards,_

_Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford._

 

         Hawke playfully slapped her arm. “Someone’s got an admirer!” he teased.

         She shook her head at him, trying to make sense of it. “Why does he wish to talk?” she wondered aloud. “He’s been avoiding me for days after we…”

         “After you embarrassed him in front of everyone in the Hanged Man. Varric told me all about it. I wish I could’ve been there!”

         “No, you wouldn’t,” she muttered. “He insulted you too. He insulted every mage. I can’t believe he thinks like that.”

         “Perhaps he wants to apologise to you? But doesn’t want the risk of being embarrassed again in front of a crowd of people. The Gallows are practically deserted at night.” Hawke watched her as she read the letter over again and again, as if there were a hidden message within it. “Are you going to go?”

         She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I have a bad feeling.”

         “Nerves?” he teased. “Nothing will happen to you, oh mighty hero. What’s the harm in speaking to one Templar who is obviously infatuated with you?”

         She spluttered. “Oh shut up, Hawke! He is _not_ infatuated with me!”

         “Oh _sureee_. It’s so romantic, you know? A man torn between his duty and love…”

         “It’s not like that!” she hissed, getting to her feet. “I’ll meet him tonight and see what he wants—but it _won’t_ be for anything _romantic_ , got it?”

         Hawke laughed, clutching his sides as Solona’s cheeks flushed red. “ _Sure_ , anything you say, cousin.”

***

Unease did not leave her as she walked into the Gallows that evening, her arms wrapped around her body as she had rushed out without a coat, wearing only a thin shirt to keep her warm. The place was deserted. There were no mages walking around or Templars keeping guard. All that was before her was Cullen, standing alone in his post by the stairs where he usually stood.

         “Cullen,” she said as she approached. “I got your letter. Is everything alright?”

         He kept his eyes firmly on the ground between them, taking slow, deep breaths, and did not answer her.

         “Cullen?” she touched his face with her gloved hand, revealing red, sore eyes that welled with tears. “What’s wrong?”

         He stepped back from her, leaving her hand hanging in the air for a moment, before it fell by her side.

         “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

         Solona furrowed her brow. “Sorry? You mean for the other night?” But he did not answer her still. “Talk to me! What’s wrong! Why do you look like—”

         “Please, forgive me,” was all he said, still unable to look at her. “I didn’t want this…I tried to stop them…”

         Her heart raced as Cullen squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head and continued to back away from her. “I don’t understand—”

         The sound of swords unsheathing from their scabbards froze her. She spun on the spot to see a small army of Templars burst out from hiding places around the Gallows. They advanced on her with their weapons drawn, and at the head of the hoard stood Meredith, an evil grin plastered across her face.

         “We have you at last, mage,” she said. “You will learn what respect is.”

         Before she could react, several Templars grabbed hold of her, restraining her so she could not move. “Cullen!” screamed. “What’s going on!”

         He simply shook his head and turned away.

         “ _CULLEN!”_ Her voice broke as she cried out to him, but he did not respond, as if pretending not to hear her, keeping his back facing her. She kicked out and struggled in the Templars’ grasp, but with one swift punch to the gut, her protests were silenced. Her mouth was gagged and her hands tied behind her back.

         “Lock her in the dungeons,” Meredith commanded, and Solona was taken away, betrayal tightening her chest, as if a blade had been shoved through her heart.


	34. Chapter 34

_34 – Solona_

Screams, nightmares, pain.

         Solona sat in the corner of her stone cell, body shaking violently from the cold. She brought her knees to her chest, unable to wrap her arms around her body as they were tied behind her back. Feeling broken and hungry she rested her head back against the stone, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. They stung as they hit new wounds, made by the Templars every time she tried to escape, or even protested about her current predicament.

          Her body was a painting of bruises and cuts, reminding her of the old days when fighting with Alistair, Leliana, Morrigan, and all her other companions as a young Grey Warden. Those wounds had been expected. You could not go into a battle with darkspawn without coming out unscathed. But there was one wound over her heart that refused to heal.

         _Cullen._ The very name brought out a fierce rage within her that made her want to slam her body against the bars to escape, just so she could see him and wring his neck. _I will never forgive you for this_ , she promised silently. _I will hate you until the day I die, I swear it_.

         Claustrophobia started to play on her mind, her body trembling with fear as the walls appeared to close in on her if she focused on how small her cell was. Three stone walls and a front wall made of metal bars that she could see two Templars through, keeping watch on her. They smirked at her through the bars, taunting her as they walked about freely, knowing she could barely move with her restraints.

         _They’ll pay for this too_. _Anders is right. There is so much injustice in this city._

         Later that day, she was dragged out of her cell by her arms, feet dragging along the ground behind her. She kicked out and tried to wriggle out of their grasp, refusing to come willingly, but they shook her and slammed her to the ground whenever she did.

         The bright light of the sun shining down on the Gallows blinded her, making her squint, blinking to adjust her eyes. As soon as she opened them fully, she wished she had not. She stood atop the steps leading to the Circle, forced to her knees in front of a crowd of thousands who had gathered at Meredith’s request. Mages and non-mages alike stood staring up at her like she was an attraction—some in awe, others in shock.

         She gritted her teeth as the Templars holding her tightened her restraints in case she tried to escape, pain swelling in her wrists, already bloody from how tight they already were, cutting into her skin. The Templars watched her with smirks and grins, as if pleased by what was happening.

         _I’m going to die, aren’t I?_

         “I have called you here today,” said Meredith, addressing the crowd with her arms open wide, “to inform you that we will not tolerate any mage resistance in Kirkwall. Even the mightiest of mages will fall at our hand.” She pointed at Solona, eyes filled with glee. “As an example to you all…the great _Hero of Ferelden_ will be made tranquil before your very eyes!”

         Solona’s breath caught in her throat. _Tranquil_? Fear slithered up her back and into her veins. She moaned fearfully, terror gripping her heart. “No! No you can’t do this!” she begged. “No, no, no!” She wriggled again in her restraints. “Meredith, please!” She caught sight of Cullen watching her, clearly torn, his body twitching, not sure whether to walk away or stay.

        Meredith clicked her fingers and a Templar brought over a brand that glowed blue with lyrium. Solona recognised the symbol on the end… the Rite of Tranquillity. One that sat on tranquil’s foreheads.

         “Cullen!” she screamed to him desperately, voice breaking. “Help me, please!”

         The people watching below cried in outrage, shouting at Meredith to stop, but her army of Templars forced them back, creating a wall of red and silver armour.

         “You will all watch as I make your great heroic mage tranquil!” Meredith shouted, readying the brand.

         The Templars holding Solona tightened their grip to the point that it was too painful to move. She kicked out her legs, tears streaming down her face as the symbol drew close, heat radiating from it towards her skin.

         “NO! PLEASE!” she shrieked, squeezing her eyes shut. “PLEASE!”

         Jowan floated into her mind. How he had begged her to put him out of his misery, to stop him from becoming tranquil. She had refused at first, but he had won her over as she realised what a horrible fate it would be to become an emotionless creature. She had done it to save him. But there was no one here to save her now.

         As the brand came within an inch of her forehead, it was sent flying out of her hands by an arrow. Meredith jumped back in shock, whirling round to find the source. Hawke and his companions stormed in the Gallows towards them, his hands alight with flames.

         “Let her go!” he shouted. “As Champion of this city I demand that you release her!”

         The Templars holding her let go, standing beside Meredith with her weapons drawn. “You dare tell the knight-commander what to do!” they shouted.

         Anders slipped in behind them, unchained her and scooped Solona up into his arms off the floor as she lay curled in a ball. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, cradling her to his chest. “You’re safe now.”

         “A-Am I tranquil?” she whimpered.

         “No,” he replied. “You’re fine. You’re okay.”

         Meredith stormed down the steps towards Hawke, the people automatically parting for her. “You dare come here and defy the Templars by interrupting this!”

         “ _You_ dare try to steal my cousin and force tranquillity upon her!” Hawke roared. “She defended Ferelden from a Blight, one that could have killed us all if not stopped! You have the _gall_ to abuse your powers!”

         “The Templars have the right to—”

         “To make dangerous mages tranquil, not an innocent one to set an example!”

         Anders carried Solona over to Hawke, who checked her over. “Look what you did to her!” Anders shouted. “You claim we are monsters, but the only monsters I see here are _you_!” His voice grew deep, eyes glowing blue, Justice breaking through. “You will never harm another mage again!”

         Solona quickly put her hand on his chest. “Anders…no,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Be calm.”

         “I won’t forget that you did this, Meredith,” said Hawke, turning to walk away. “I won’t forget this injustice!”

         “And I will not forget where your true loyalties lie! It is not with this city, or you would not have interrupted me so!”

         Hawke waved her away and lead his companions back to Hightown, shooting a venomous stare towards a trembling Templar, who could not meet his eyes.

***

“You’re safe now, okay?” said Hawke, sitting on the end of her bed in his estate.

         She clutched his hand tightly, her fingers covered in cuts and bruises that Anders was preparing to heal. Hawke had laid her down on her bed, smoothing her hair away from her face as she trembled and whimpered, confused and afraid.

         “I was almost…she…he…” she whispered, her words incoherent. All she knew was that she was almost made tranquil. It was a fate worse than death, one she never thought she would have to come across, until that day. She would keep touching her forehead, asking Hawke to show her a mirror to ensure that the mark was not there.

         Hawke chuckled. “If it was, you wouldn’t be worried about it. Tranquil don’t feel anything.”

         “Why would he do this…” she sobbed, bringing her knees to her chest. “Cullen he…he set me up. He…betrayed me.”

         “I apologise for thinking he had any feelings for you,” said Hawke. “If he loved you, he wouldn’t have done that.”

         “I never thought him capable of this. That he would…” Anger boiled in her chest again. “That he’d betray my trust!” The mirror in Hawke’s hand shattered, sending fragments everywhere. “I hope I never see that traitorous Templar again in my life!”

         He soothed her by stroking her hair again. “Shush. Be calm, cousin. I know this is terrible but getting angry solves nothing.”

         “They will pay,” said Anders as he walked into the room, magic sparking around his fingertips. “I’ll personally ensure that.” He laid her down and placed his hands over her body, running them up and down as magic leaked out of them. It flowed into her skin, healing her wounds, slowly making her feel better. The dull ache that had plagued her slowly faded, her split lip sealed itself, her bruises vanished and her cuts healed.

         She sat up and examined herself to find she was as good as new. “Thank you, Anders,” she said.

         He inclined his head. “I shall leave you two to it. I have things to do,” he said quickly, rushing out of the room.

         Hawke fiddled with his shaggy black beard. “I should never have trusted that a Templar be left alone with a mage in this city. I forget that you’re not from here. You don’t realise how bad things are here for mages like us.”

         “Yeah, well, I know now,” Solona replied dryly.

         “I’m protected by my titles, though I’m sure that won’t last long. Meredith is dying to make me tranquil. A lot of my actions spur the mages to act more rebelliously than she’d like. And _you_ …you’re a hero that’s a _mage_. Barely heard of in these parts. You inspire hope where there is none. If a Circle Mage from Ferelden could rise to power like you have, perhaps they could to, you know?”

         Solona looked down at herself again. _Here I am, acting like a snivelling child because I let the Templars insight fear in my hearts, just like they did in the Circle_. She hopped off the bed and began gathering her things scattered about the room.

         “I think I’ve outstayed my welcome here,” she said, grabbing her old pack that she had stuffed in the bottom of the wardrobe along with her Grey Warden armour. “I’m going home.”


	35. Chapter 35

_35 – Cullen_

Cullen was rooted to the ground as Meredith paced up and down on the top of the steps in the Gallows, distraught that she was shown up by Hawke. The Templars dispersed the angry crowd, forcing them back to their homes.

         “This was exactly what we needed to show the people that _we_ are in charge!” Meredith shouted. “Hawke…he will pay for this…”

         But Cullen was not listening, for guilt was eating away at him for what he had done. His breathing rapid, his chest heaved. _What have I done? I hurt her again_.

         He was only doing his duty…right? Just being a Templar, doing as his superior ordered. Solona should have understood that, having said it herself about her own Grey Warden order telling her to do things she did not want to.

         _But she did not betray anyone… I did._ His hands curled into fists at his sides as he began to feel a deep disgust at himself brew within him. _I have to find her. Tell her I’m sorry. Put things right…_

         He walked away as Meredith continued to rant, and ignored her as she ordered him to tell her where he was going. He raced down the steps and made his way to Hightown, where Solona had no doubt been taken.

         When he reached the estate he knocked several times until a short, bearded dwarf with braids in his hair and beard answered the door. “Hello, Serah Templar, how can I—”

         Cullen charged past him, knocking the dwarf aside. “Solona!” he cried. “Solona!”

         “Bodahn! Who’s at the door?” Hawke’s voice shouted through the house.

         Cullen followed the voice, racing up the stairs to the top level of the estate, until he found Hawke pulling on a robe, emerging from the master bedroom.

         “I’m not dressed for company, Bodahn. You’ll have to tell them—”

         “Where is she?” Cullen asked. “Where’s Solona?”

         Hawke’s usually cheerful face warped into a glare. “You dare come in my house,” he spat. “After what you did—”

         “ _Where is she?_ ” Cullen demanded. “Please, let me speak to Solona. I didn’t mean—”

         A voice stopped him dead. “Hawke? I hear shouting. Are you alright out there?”

         Before Hawke could do anything, Cullen dashed along the hall towards her voice, bursting inside another bedroom to find her inside. He almost didn’t recognise her at first, as she now wore her Grey Warden armour, something she hadn’t worn in months. Her staff and pack sat on the bed as she tidied the dressing table by the window.

         “Solona,” he breathed.

         She whipped round at the sound of his voice.

         “Solona, please, let me…”

         His voice trailed off as he noticed the piercing hatred in her eyes. “How dare you come here,” she growled, “after what you just did.”

         “I wanted to apologise! I—”

         Fire swirled around her hands, with a flick of her wrist she threw a ball at him. He brought out his shield just in time to deflect it from burning his face off.

         “I trusted you!” she screamed, throwing another ball of fire. “I was almost made tranquil because of _you_!”

         As she moved to throw another ball of fire, Cullen tapped into his Templar powers and dispelled all the magic from the room. The flames in her hands fizzled out. She tried casting magic but failed, not even a spark leaving her fingertips. She screamed in frustration, grabbing a nearby vase and threw it at him. Then another ornament, and another, each one shattering against his shield.

         “I’m sorry!” he said, deflecting a metal pot that clanged against his shield. “Meredith made me!”

         Solona stopped, her shoulders squared, chest heaving. “She put a knife to your throat, did she? Held you down until you screamed to make you do this?”

         Cullen hesitantly shook his head. “N-Not exactly.”

         She breathed deeply, closing her eyes. “I have been betrayed in my life many times before, but none have hurt quite like this.” She grabbed a harness from the bed and strapped it to her back, ready for her staff. “Who am I kidding?” she muttered as she adjusted the buckles. “I can’t run away from who I am. I’m not a normal mage who can walk about freely wherever I want. I’m Solona Amell, Commander of the Grey in Ferelden!” She jutted a finger at him. “You dare insult me by coming here to apologise for something you chose to willingly take part in!”

         “I care for you,” he blurted. “I would never mean for you to get hurt!”

         Solona laughed humourlessly. “No? Then what was that back there in the Gallows? What is this?” She pointed to a scar over her lip that he knew was not there before. Only an hour or so before it was bleeding, the blood trickling down her chin. “You may not have been the one to cause these wounds, but you hurt me in a way no one else has, Templar. Now get out of here before I break your dispelling enchantment and burn you where you stand!”

         To his surprise, she did break his dispelling enchantment, lighting fire in her hands again. Before he could say another word, Hawke grabbed him by the shoulders and escorted him out of the house. He was shoved outside, the door slamming closed behind him.

         Cullen collapsed against a pillar outside Hawke Estate, his head in his hands. His fingers dug into his scalp as self-loathing overwhelmed him. _What that mage, Anders, said is true. We are the true monsters._


	36. Chapter 36

_36 – Solona_

“You’re serious?”

         “Absolutely serious,” Solona replied. “I’m leaving, _today_.”

         Hawke grabbed her by the shoulders. “Okay, I get it. I can’t make you stay, but can you just stay for another hour or so? I promised Anders that I’d help him with something in the chantry. Just wait until I come back, okay? Don’t leave yet. You have to say goodbye. I don’t know when I’ll see you again…if ever.”

         Solona sighed. “Alright, I’ll stay. But don’t be too long, whatever you’re doing.”

         Hawke pointed his finger at her as he backed out of her bedroom, hovering in the doorway. “Don’t move, okay? Bodahn or Orana will tell me if you even leave this room!”

         Unable to help herself, she chuckled. “Alright, Alright! I’m not going anywhere.” She sat herself down on the bed, and Hawke, finally satisfied, left the room.

***

Solona leant against the window of her bedroom, watching out for Hawke’s return. He had been gone for several hours now, and she was beginning to worry. Her concern for him began to overtake her urge to leave. _He always gets himself into trouble…not unlike me I suppose_. She picked up her staff and pack. _I’d better go see if he’s alright._

         She met Bodahn on the stairs. “My Lady Warden! You cannot leave! Master Hawke said—”

         “I think something is wrong,” she said. “He said he’d be back hours ago.”

         Sensing the worry in her voice, the dwarf stepped aside, allowing her to pass and leave the estate.

         The minute she stepped outside into Kirkwall’s Hightown, she felt the thick tension in the air that normally occurred when the Templars were about. It encapsulated her body like smoke, clinging to her skin and hair and clothes, making her shudder. _Something is really wrong._

        The streets were deserted as she made her way towards the chantry, where Hawke said he and Anders would be. _Perhaps he’s just busy helping people. That’s what he does. It’s not unusual. I’m sure he’s fine. He has to be._

         As she drew close, turning a corner into the Gallows, arguing reached her ears.

         “I will have the tower searched,” said Meredith’s shrill voice, “top to bottom!”

         “You cannot do that!” shouted an elven mage with grey hair and important-looking robes. “You have no right!”

         “I have every right! You are harbouring blood mages and I intend to root them out before they infect this city!”

         The First-Enchanter threw his hands up in the air. “Blood magic! Where do you _not_ see blood magic? My people cannot sneeze without you accusing them of corruption!”

         “Do not trifle with me, mage! My patience is at an end!”

         “A wonder that I never saw it begin!”

         Hawke put himself between the two. “Alright, that’s enough! We don’t need you two love birds at each other’s throats!”

         Meredith turned on him. “This does not involve you, Champion.” She looked past him to see Solona approach them. “Nor you!”

         Hawke spun round. “Solona! I told you to stay inside.”

         “I think you know that Amells don’t do as they’re told,” Solona replied with a smirk.

         “ _I_ called the Champion here,” said Orsino. “I think the people deserve to know exactly what you’ve done—the hero of Ferelden here being the perfect example!” He turned to Solona. “Had I known what she was planning to do to you…”

         Meredith snarled. “What I have done is protect the people of this city time and again. What I have done is protect you mages from your curse and your own stupidity. And I will not stop doing it. I will not lower our guard! I dare not!”

         “She’s mad,” said Solona, noticing the crazed look in the Knight-Commander’s eyes. “Utterly insane! What happens when you don’t find something, hmm? When you search these poor mages’ quarters and find nothing? Will that satisfy you? I doubt it. If you’re willing to make a mage tranquil for no reason other than to make an example, then I think you’ve lost the plot.”

         Hawke snorted. “You both set quite the example for your people, you know that? When will this arguing stop?”

         Meredith shook her head. “What other option do we have? Tell me that you have not seen with your own eyes what they can do? Heard the lies of mages that seek power!”

         “You can’t use the actions of _some_ to condemn _them all_.”

         _I see where Cullen gets his ideals from_ , Solona thought bitterly, watching the crazed Knight-Commander before her.

         “You would cast us all as villains,” said Orsino, “but it is not so!”

         Meredith lowered her voice. “I know, and it breaks my heart to do it, but we must be vigilant. If you cannot tell me another way, do not brand me a tyrant!”

         Orsino sighed. “This is getting us nowhere. Grand Cleric Elthina will put a stop to this.” He turned to walk up the stairs to the Chantry, but Meredith grabbed his arm to stop him.

         “You will not bring Her Grace into this!”

         “The Grand Cleric cannot help you!” said a new voice. Everyone turned to see Anders walk onto the scene, his eyes filled with determination…a dangerous look.

         Meredith turned on him. “Explain yourself, mage!”

         “I will not stand by and let you treat all mages like criminals, while those who would lead us bow to their Templar jailors!”

         “How dare you speak to me like that!” Orsino barked.

         Ander’s voice deepened, his eyes glowing blue. “The Circle has failed us Orsino! Even you should be able to see that! The time has come to act! There can be no half measures!”

         His glow faded, his voice returning to normal, but his words did not sit right with them all. _What does he mean?_

         “Anders,” said Hawke, “what have you done?”

         Anders looked up at the Chantry behind them. “There can be no turning back.”

         The ground shook beneath their feet, a deep rumble filling the air. All of a sudden, with a loud bang, red light burst forth from the Chantry, shattering it to pieces. It sent everyone flying backwards with a giant shockwave, knocking them all off their feet.

         Solona gasped as she got to her feet, joining everyone as they stared at the great gaping hole where the Chantry had once stood. Ash fell from the sky, settling upon bits of rock and debris.

         “May the Maker have mercy,” Meredith prayed.

         “There can be no peace,” said Anders, without a shred of remorse in his voice.

         Solona’s voice broke as she stared at her old friend. The way he looked back at her now, without remorse or any emotion other than rage towards the Templars…he did not remind her at all of her old friend that she had conscripted in Amaranthine. “Anders…why would you do such a thing?”

         “I removed the chance of compromise…because there _is_ no compromise!” he replied.

         Meredith stared up at the ashes of the Chantry and all those within. “The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic…the Chantry destroyed!” She turned to her men. “As Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the Rite of Annulment! Every mage in the Circle is to be executed! Immediately!”

         Solona jumped in. “The Circle didn’t even do this! Hawke, we have to help them!”

         Meredith cut in. “I demand you stand with us,” she told Hawke. “Even you must see that this outrage cannot be tolerated!”

         Everyone looked to Hawke, whose opinion everyone in Kirkwall valued. Anders looked to his friend hopefully, but Hawke—who Solona barely ever saw without a smile on his face—was no longer smirking. “You’re a murderer,” he spat. “The Grand Cleric, the mages…their blood is on _your hands_!”

         Anders bowed his head. “I know.”

        Meredith shouted at Hawke, “Do your duty to this city, or fall with the mages!”

         Hawke flexed his shoulders. “This won’t be easy…but I will defend the mages.”

         Solona smiled proudly at him. “And I will stand beside you.”

         Varric behind them clapped. “Two heroes saving the day! I have to write this down… Does anyone have any spare parchment on them? No?”

         “Be careful, Champion,” Meredith warned. “Stand with them, and you share their fate.”

         Hawke’s smirk returned. “I can live with that.”

         “You are a fool, Champion.” Meredith turned to her men. “Kill them all! I will rouse the rest of the Order!” Then she stormed away towards the Gallows. Orsino sent his mages to follow her to warn the other mages…

         And then all hell broke loose.

         Fighting erupted. The warriors unsheathed their blades, rogues whipped out their blades and readied their bows, and the mages gripped their staffs. Spells, arrows, blades, and shields flashed in every direction, until the Templars lay dead on the ground.

         Orsino stumbled to his feet after the fight, having been bashed to the ground by a Templar shield. “I don’t know if we will win this war, but…thank you for standing with us,” he said to Hawke and Solona, then looked at Anders who sat on the ground nearby. “I will leave your…friend…for you to deal with. I must return to the gallows. Meet me there as soon as you can.”

         Solona stood back as Hawke approached Anders, choosing to help the Dalish mage, Merrill, who had an arrow stuck in her arm. She could not bring herself to look at her old friend. _The Anders I know wouldn’t do something like this. He understood the injustice better than anyone, but murder isn’t going to solve our problems. All he’s caused is chaos._

         “There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already said to myself,” said Anders, his back to Hawke. “I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the Justice all mages have awaited.”

         “Did that spirit tell you to do this?” Hawke asked.

         “He couldn’t have,” said Solona. “Justice was a friend of mine. He only wanted what was right not…not this. Anders has corrupted him.”

         “When we merged,” said Anders, “he ceased to be. We are one now. I can no longer ignore the injustice of the Circle than he could.”

         “So you start a massacre to prove a point?” said Hawke.

         “I’m not proving a point! I’m changing a world! The people fear what we can do…but to use that fear to bludgeon us into submission is wrong! And they do it with our _blessing_! If I pay for that with my life…then I pay. Perhaps then Justice will at least be free.”

         Hawke looked to Solona as if to say, _what should I do?_

         “He just committed mass murder of innocent people…” she said, “but we need all the help we can get. It’s your choice, Hawke.”

          Hawke stared down at Anders, his eyes darting about as he was deep in thought. “He’ll come with us,” he said, “to do what he can to put things right. Solona’s right. We need all the help we can get.”

         Anders got to his feet, eyes wide with surprise. “I didn’t think you’d let me… But if you do, I’ll fight the Templars. Damned right I will!”

         “Then let’s get to the Gallows,” said Solona, “before it’s too late.”


	37. Chapter 37

_37 – Solona_

They had to fight their way to the Gallows. The streets were filled with mages fighting Templars, some mages fighting other mages as they turned into horrific abominations, unable to control the fear that gripped their hearts as the Templars threatened them with swords. It was the most unbearable thing Solona had ever seen. A lot of Templars were hesitant to kill the mages, and the mages hesitant to kill them in return, but they fought purely on the basis that they were now officially enemies, one set out to kill the other.

         The streets were alight with flames, spells lighting the skies as they bounced off buildings and skidded across the ground, leaving scorch marks in their wake. The chaos began to die down as they reached the Gallows…because it was all happening _inside_.

         Orsino and his mages backed away up the steps as Templars advanced on them. Using powerful magic, he sent them flying down the steps away from them. With a sickening crunch, their necks broke on the last step.

         “Champion! Hero!” said Orsino as he spotted them approach. “You both made it! Thank the Maker! We must—”

         “And here you are!” Meredith’s shrill voice rang across the Gallows. She and her band of Templars entered the place, well armoured and ready to fight. Solona tensed as she spotted Cullen right behind her. He immediately looked away.

         “Let us speak, Meredith,” shouted Orsino, “before this battle destroys the city you claim to protect!”

         “I will entertain a surrender. Nothing more.” The mages and Templars faced off against one another in a line, with Hawke, Solona, and their companions in the middle of them as a barrier. “Speak if you have something to say.”

         “Revoke the Rite of Annulment, Meredith,” Orsino said gently, “before this goes too far. Imprison us if you must. Search the Tower—I will even help you. But do not kill us all for an act _we_ did not commit.”

         Meredith was not swayed, however. “The Grand Cleric is dead. Killed by a _mage_. The people will demand retribution and I will give it to them. Your offer is commendable, Orsino, but it comes too late.”

         “You can both stop this,” said Hawke, “before you tear Kirkwall apart.”

         Orsino sighed. “You heard her. She wanted this all along.”

         Meredith wrinkled her nose. “I suppose I should have expected no less from you, Champion…with the company you keep.” She glared at Solona. “So be it. You will share the Circle’s fate.”

         “So what is it to be, Meredith?” asked Orsino. “To fight here?”

         “Go, ready your people. The rest of the Order is already crossing the harbour.”

         Orsino turned on his heels and marched away towards the Circle Tower, Hawke, and their companions right behind them. Solona gave Cullen one last look of disappointment as he stood on the opposing side, before following after them.

***

Solona stood beside Hawke in front of their companions, readying themselves in the Circle grounds. It was a terrifying place. Walls and towers so tall they blocked the sky, sharp fences with metal spikes lined the area. It felt like a prison, one Solona was eager to break out of.

         “Are you ready?” she asked Hawke. He kept his eyes onward, refusing to look at Anders who continued to try to get his attention. She gave him a small signal with her hands to stop. He backed away, head hanging low. “It’ll be a tough fight.”

         “I’m a Champion, you’re a Hero. I think we’re a fair match for these Templars,” he replied, his light tone not matching the concern on his face. “If you can kill an archdemon and a horde of darkspawn, we can stop a few Templars from killing these mages.”

         She looked back to see the Circle mages huddled together, whispering and chanting, casting protective spells and praying to the Maker to save them. Solona frowned. It surprised her how many of them looked so…pitiful. They were afraid, bodies trembling, eyes welling. _How can the Templars insight so much fear in these people? It’s so wrong._

         “Well,” said Hawke, “it’s now or never. Can’t keep the Templars hanging around all day. Let’s get this party started.” He twirled his staff around his body effortlessly, little sparks shooting out the end in anticipation. Solona took out her staff along with the rest of the mages and followed Hawke into battle as the Templars finally broke down the Circle’s front gates.

***

Blades and spells whizzed past her as Solona pushed her way through the fighting to reach higher ground. As mages, it was better for her and Hawke to stay back and fight from a distance, but the Templars were allowing no such thing. There were so many of them. They blocked every opening, every exit. A blade met her path every time she turned around.

         Back in her Grey Warden armour, she felt tall and proud again. It gave her the strength to keep fighting. She whacked her staff into the back of a Templar’s head before they could cut down a nearby Circle mage. “Get out of here!” she ordered the mage, striking the Templar again so that he stayed down, permanently. As the mage scurried out of sight, more Templars moved in, forming a circle around her, cutting her off from Hawke and the rest of their companions. She whirled round. In every direction there was a blade, and at the end of one of them…

         “Cullen,” she breathed.

         He froze, stiffening as their eyes met.

          “You’ll cut me down, will you?” she spat. “Kill me and all these other mages just because your crazy Knight-Commander tells you to?” A Templar ran at her. She thrust her hand towards him, blasting him back. “You really have changed.”

         Cullen remained frozen, unable to move his blade away and unable to move forward to attack. More Templars from the circle around her moved in. She used her staff like a sword, blocking blades before they could reach her heart. Kicking one Templar away, she threw magical fire at another.

         “What are you waiting for?” she screamed at Cullen. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

         Cullen’s grip on his blade tightened, but he remained still.

         Solona cried out as a blade cut her arm. She twisted and thrust her hand out to the Templar holding the weapon covered in her blood. Their armour crumpled inwards, crushing them until they could no longer breathe and collapsed to the floor.

         “Well?” she said, turning back to Cullen. She opened her arms wide. “Do it, I dare you.”

         “Knight-Captain!” cried Meredith’s shrill voice from across the battlefield. “Stop her! Strike her now!”

         His hand shaking, Cullen swung his blade at her faster than she anticipated. She jerked backwards just in time, her breath catching in her throat. _He did it. He actually did it…_ She bared her teeth back at him, her hands alight with flames.

         “So you are just a mindless soldier that listens to whatever their commander says, no matter whether it’s right or wrong.”

         “Says you,” he barked. “You walked away from Kirkwall when we could have used your help against the Qunari! Templars nearby heard you tell your men that you were not to get involved with politics. That Grey Wardens were neutral.”

         She swallowed hard, hands curling into fists at her sides. “I made a wrong decision. That’s why I came back, to stay here and help—”

         “As have we,” said a third voice. Both Cullen and Solona looked back to see two Grey Wardens march onto the scene, cutting through rogue Templars that turned their blades on them. Nathaniel Howe, with his long, dark brown hair tied back from his face stood tall with his bow and arrows beside Carver Hawke with his greatsword, both of whom were armoured up and ready to fight in their Grey Warden armour.

         “Nate…Carver...” said Solona. “What are you doing here?”

         “The same thing as you,” said Nathaniel. “We’re following our Commander’s example.”

         “We heard Kirkwall was in disarray. Before, you said you should’ve stayed and helped these people during the fight with the Qunari,” said Carver. “This time there’s another battle and you didn’t turn your back. You chose to stay and help. I’m doing the same.”

         “As am I,” said Nathaniel. “We can take the stick for it later. Together, Commander.”

         She smiled proudly at them both. “I couldn’t have asked for better men,” she said, heart swelling with joy. “Hawke is back there with Anders and Varric,” she told Carver. “I’m sure he’d be pleased to see you again. Nate, we have some Templars to take down.”

         “Never liked those stuck up twats,” said Nathaniel, readying his bow. His eyes turned on Cullen. “What about this one?”

         Cullen readied his blade again as the three Wardens stared at him. “He’s not worth our time,” she said curtly. “He’s chosen his side.” She walked away, choosing to fight elsewhere.

***

They made their way to the Gallows Courtyard, where Meredith and her Templars blocked all exits, as if waiting for them. Many of the Templars fighting in the Circle Tower flushed out of the fighting to stand by her side…including Cullen.

         “And here we are,” said Meredith, her arms folded across her chest. “At long last.”

         “I imagine you’ve wanted to be rid of me for some time,” said Hawke.

         “I bare you no ill will,” she said smugly. “You’ve done this to yourself. By supporting the mages you have elected to share their fate.”

         Cullen frowned behind her. “Knight-Commander, I thought we intended to arrest the Champion and his companions,” he cut in.

         Meredith turned on him. “You will do as I command, Cullen.”

         He shook his head. “No,” he said, to everyone’s surprise. “I defended you when people started whispering that you were mad. But this…this is too far.”

         Meredith pointed her blade at his throat. “I will not allow insubordination!” It glowed a dangerous red, one that made Varric gasp.

         _“_ It’s red lyrium,” the dwarf hissed.

         “We must stay true to our path!” she declared. She looked to Hawke as he stared in horror at the blade. “You recognise it, do you not?” She turned the blade in her hands. “Pure lyrium, taken from the Deep Roads.” Red flickered in her eyes. “The dwarf charged a great deal for his prize…”

         “Dwarf?” said Solona. “You mean, Varric’s brother?”

         Meredith looked to her Templars. “All of you! I want them _dead!_ ” she cried, pointing the glowing red blade at Hawke and Solona. Carver moved to stand beside them both, his blade drawn.

         “Enough!” Cullen shouted. “This is not what the Order stands for! Knight-Commander, step down! I relieve you of your command!”

         Meredith’s eyes widened, red flickering behind them. “My own Knight-Captain falls prey to the influence of blood magic,” she whispered. “You all have! You’re all weak!” She glared at them all. “Allowing the mages to control your minds! To turn you against me! But I don’t need any of you!” She pointed her blade at Hawke and Solona again. “I will protect this city myself.”

         Cullen put himself in between Hawke, Solona and the sword, drawing his own blade. “You’ll have to go through me.”

         Meredith snarled. “Idiot boy. Just like all the others.” She plunged her sword into the ground, and a red glow consumed her. “Blessed are those that stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter!” She got to her feet, eyes alight with red, her blade out in readiness. “Come at me!”

         Meredith had earned her title of Knight-Commander. She fought like a thousand men, with speed and agility, a difficult match even for the group of people around her. It was no help that red lyrium seemed to seep from her body, glowing and swirling around her. It gave her power they had never seen before. Her blade threw blast waves towards them, knocking them off their feet. It sent bursts of red light towards them that would shoot through a person like a blade, cutting them in two.

         “Maker!” she cried, voice breaking, “Your servant begs you for the strength to defeat this evil!” Plunging her blade into the ground again, it sent waves of red light shooting in all directions. Everyone ducked as it passed narrowly over their heads, zooming into statues of tortured slaves that Solona had seen on her arrival, decorating the Gallows.

         They rumbled and screeched, breaking free of their stiff forms, coming _alive_. Jumping down from their places against the walls, they landed in the courtyard and charged towards them.

         Solona jumped out of the way as one almost landed on her. They shook the ground as they landed, almost knocking everyone off their feet. Solona stumbled backwards, but someone caught her arm, stopping her from falling. Cullen helped her back up. She jerked herself away from him without thanks, fixing her eyes on the statues approaching them.

         They moved with slow, jerky movements, like toddlers learning how to walk.

         “Move fast and keep moving,” she told everyone. “They look like they’re slow and clumsy, but strong enough to crush you if you get too close. Stay out of their grasp.”

         “Good idea,” said Hawke. He threw lightning towards one, but it bounced right off, unaffected. “Okay…that won’t work.”

         “Try ice and force,” Solona advised, pulling away from the group. She glared up at Meredith who stood up high on an unreachable balcony. “Once they’re defeated, it’ll just be her.”

         “Unless she can pull an archdemon out of her ass, I think we’ll be okay,” said Hawke. “Let’s do this.”

         Solona was right. Their movements were slow and clumsy. Animated beings who had never lived before, unsure of how their bodies worked, were the perfect enemies. The mages threw ice towards the statues, freezing them in place for the Templars’ blades to shatter them.

         Solona jumped into the air and sent her staff into the ground. Above them an ice storm formed, white clouds blocking the sky from view. Ice and snow rained down on them, freezing the statues. Cullen nearby threw his blade into one beside Solona, sending pieces everywhere as it smashed apart. She picked up the blade before it could skid across the ground away from her. It was heavy in her hands, covered in blood.

         _Mage blood no doubt._

         She threw it back to him. “Keep your blade aimed on _them_ ,” she warned, before darting off to help Varric, who had become cornered by a statue. She threw a force of magical energy towards it, pushing it aside before its fist could crush the dwarf. He rolled out of the way and sent an explosive arrow at its head, decapitating it.

         Before too long, the statues slowly decreased until they were nothing but a pile of rubble amongst their boots. Meredith jumped down and charged back into the fighting, her red, glowing blade swinging threateningly at her side.

         Slowly, everyone encased her. Blades flashed, spells crackled, arrows whizzed. Everyone threw all they had at her until the Knight-Commander screamed in fury. They backed off as Hawke summoned a chunk of a statue and threw it into her. She flew backwards into the stairs behind her, gasping, her body glowing red.

         “I will…not…be defeated!” She raised her blade high. “Maker, heed…your humble…servant!”

         Everyone braced themselves for another attack, but froze as Meredith released a blood curdling scream, dropping her blade. The red glow consumed her, and she crumbled to her knees, clutching her head. Her body jerked and spasmed as it solidified…and all that was left was a glowing red rock in her shape, silently screaming up at the sky.

         The Templars surrounded Hawke, Solona, and their companions, blades poised. A couple examined what remained of their leader. A statue with a permanent scream on her face, eyes glowing red.

         They looked to Cullen, their second in command. He looked to Hawke, who glared back at him, Solona at his side, as if to say _try it, Templar. See what happens_. Cullen backed away, the other Templars following suit.

         Solona looked to Hawke, and he to her. Silent words were shared between them. _What do we do now?_

         Carver and Nathaniel squeezed through the Templars to reach her side. _It’s time for me to go back to the Wardens_ , she decided. _There needs to be some changes made, and I intend to ensure it happens._

         Her allies seemed to understand what she did not say out loud. Hawke embraced her, and she him, holding him for what could be the last time, before they broke apart, and split up, the Wardens going one way, and Hawke and his companions going another, for their stories led in different paths now.        


	38. Chapter 38

_38 – Cullen_

Hawke and his companions left the city after Solona, leaving the Templars standing idly in the Gallows Courtyard. Cullen stood numbly watching the spot where Solona left with her two fellow Wardens, black hair swishing behind her. The look she had given him…how she had defied him, challenged him to kill her…and he almost had.

         Regret swallowed him, nausea rising in his throat. _We Templars are the monsters._

         He froze as he realised many eyes were staring at him. The remaining Templars looked to him, as their Knight-Captain, for their next move. Feeling a sudden pressure on his shoulders, he cleared his throat, putting away his blade. “We must restore order,” he declared. “The Rite of Annulment is revoked. Tell all Templars to stand down and have the mages return to their Circle, unharmed.”

         But Order could not be restored. For Hawke and Solona’s actions had rallied them. All Circles around Thedas were shown that Templars could be defied. They defended the mages against the injustice, and many of those mages spread word of what had happened across the continent. Circles rose up and creates chaos. More Templars arrived in Kirkwall to restore order, but the culprits that caused it all were already long gone.

         Once the mages rebelled, so did the Templars, and a nasty war had begun, one that needed to be stopped before it swallowed the world.

***

Cullen sat on the steps leading up to what was left of Kirkwall’s Chantry, his head in his hands. He had ordered the remaining Templars to try to keep the peace, but the mages rebelled against them still, even though they were not being locked up against their will. They filed into the streets and shouted at anyone who could hear them about the cruelty of the Templars. Some agreed, some didn’t. There were fights in the streets, spells thrown, fists drawn. It was less deadly than the battle that took place on Meredith’s orders, but there was no way peace was on the horizon any time soon.

         The sound of many boots marching against Kirkwall’s stone floor lifted Cullen’s head. Soldiers dressed in armour bearing a symbol he had only seen in books marched towards him. An eye in front of a sun with a blade behind it. At the head of the small army was a woman with short, dark hair, as short as a man’s. She had a stern look on her face, though it was the opposite to Meredith’s look. Hers was filled with determination, not anger.

         “Knight-Captain?” she asked, her accent thick.

         _She must be Nevarran_ , he thought, getting to his feet. “I am Knight-Captain Cullen,” he said. “And you are?”

         “Cassandra Pentaghast,” she said offering her hand. He shook it immediately. She looked like the type of woman who you did not want to mess with. “I was told by a source everything that happened here. I understand you were the first of the Templars to stand against Meredith?”

         Cullen nodded. “I was. She went mad in the end.”

         “I represent an organisation founded on the orders of Divine Justinia. Our aim is to bring peace to Thedas, which has now been disrupted by the mages and Templars. We need people who understand both sides. We understand that you now lead the Templars here in Kirkwall?”

         Cullen sighed, his chest tightening. “Not any longer,” he said, almost a whisper. “I plan on leaving the Order. It has become something that I do not agree with. We were meant to protect mages, not oppress them with fear and violence. I no longer wish for any part in it. I will be resigning when peace is restored here.”

         “There will never be peace,” said another voice. Out of the crowd of soldiers came a red haired woman that Cullen was sure he had seen before, almost ten years ago during the Blight. Her voice was delicate with another accent, Orlesian.

         “Leliana?”

         “The mages and Templars are intent on destroying one another,” she continued, standing beside Cassandra. “Centuries of hatred on both sides have caused this, and if we are not careful, it will take centuries to stop it. We must strike _now_ , whilst this is fresh. It has only been a month since the Champion and the Warden-Commander disappeared. We can still stop this.”

         “Why not ask _them_ for help?” Cullen asked. “They’re the ones who started it all.”

         Leliana shook her head. “We cannot find them. Both have disappeared without a trace.”

         “So we look to you,” said Cassandra. “We need someone who has seen things. Seen the darkness of the world. Understands what lays before us in these troubled times. Someone who commands respect and can lead our growing army. We need a Commander.”

         Cullen spluttered. “ _Me?_ You’ve got to be joking.”

         “The Templars here look to you. You challenged their leader of whom they followed without question, and now they follow you. Only someone special could command such respect from people. We need you, Cullen Rutherford. If you plan on leaving the Templars, come and join us. Put your blade to use.”

         He ran a hand through his blond curls, looking around at the crumbling remains of Kirkwall. The battle had caused much destruction, but things would not get better here. These people seemed determined to set things right, perhaps to the way things were. Peaceful—well, mostly.

         _Perhaps I can do my part to help. To bring peace. To help both Templars and mages._

         After a few moments, he said, “I’ll do it.”


	39. Chapter 39

** DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION **

_39 – Solona_

Solona sat with Alistair in his sitting room in Denerim’s castle, her feet up on the table, sitting on the sofa opposite him. Alistair had scarcely said two words since her arrival that morning. Normally he was buzzing whenever she visited him, eager to hear news from the Grey Wardens or her adventures elsewhere, or to complain about his duty as King, but today he sat silently staring into the fireplace’s flames beside him.

         She watched the orange glow of the fire dance across his face. He had barely changed in the ten years they had known one another. He had a line or two on his face now—though she dared not point them out. The last time she had he had sulked for several hours. His hair had grown a little more. It was swept back from his face in a small quiff. Stubble sat along his jaw, which he scratched irritably. He still wore his royal attire, covered in leather and fur, but his eyes were encased in dark circles. Something was clearly eating away at him.

         “Okay, what’s up with you?” she asked. “You’re never this quiet. Either you’re sick or someone cut out your tongue when I wasn’t looking.”

        Alistair blew air out of his nose. “I’m worried, Solona.”

         She laughed. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

         “I’m serious.” He removed his legs from the table, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands. “I’ve been a Grey Warden for over ten years now—even if I haven’t been in the Order for nine of those years. You know about the issues with fertility. I’ve been putting off marrying because I don’t want to have a child...but also because I’m scared I won’t be able to. Teagan and Eamon have been pressuring me and there have been whispers that if I can’t produce an heir then…someone may overthrow me.”

         Solona had not thought about how long she had been a Warden. _Ten years…I can hardly believe it._ Ten years with the taint inside of her. How long did Wardens live? How long would it take for…?

         “The Calling,” Alistair finished her train of thought. “I fear it, for both of us. Grey Wardens can live for many years but…I feel that my time is limited. I don’t have long before I must answer my Calling.”

         “You have at least another ten years,” said Solona, though it was not convincing in the slightest. “Twenty perhaps. You said on average it’s thirty years.”

         “Depending on the Warden,” said Alistair. “Some live for ten years after Joining, some for thirty, some for fifty. All I know is…there are no old wardens unless they joined late. Anyone who joined young, like us…we don’t survive past fifty.” He released a groan of frustration. “I must find a wife to produce an heir or my throne is threatened, sooner rather than later. I’ve been putting it off for nine years.”

         Solona nodded understandingly. She had not thought about it before, but her time was limited too. She had maybe another twenty years if she was lucky. She sat back in her chair, fiddling with the plait of black hair that sat over her shoulder. Her mind wandered to events of the past. A Grey Warden named Fiona had been able to remove the taint from herself—unfortunately without her knowledge. Avernus, another Grey Warden, was able to prolong his life through experimentation.

         She sat bolt upright, making Alistair jump. “What if there was a way to cure the Calling?” she said. “So when Grey Wardens reach their time, it can be cured.” She shot to her feet.

         “That would be perfect,” Alistair joked half-heartedly. “But it’s not possible…surely?”

         “Maybe it is…” She started pacing in front of the fireplace, her large shadow dancing about the room. “Maybe I could find a way to stop it.”

         Alistair perked up. “You mean…find a cure?”

         She nodded, continuing to pace. “Maybe I can talk to the Order about this…see if they have any leads that could help…then maybe find my own…” She stopped still. “I think I can do this.”

         “I think you can too,” said Alistair, smiling for the first time since she had arrived that day. “But that means throwing yourself into danger again. I thought you’d had enough of it when you left Kirkwall to return to the Order.”

         “I know. But this is something I must do. As Warden-Commander I have a duty to you and our fellow Wardens to help them.” She perched herself on the edge of the table in front of him, before leaning over to wrap her arms around him. “I’ll be back before you know it. Hopefully with good news.”

         Alistair grinned. “Be careful out there. It’s a full blown war. Mages and Templars at each other’s throats wherever you go.”

         “I’ll stay out of sight,” she said, getting to her feet again, “just like I have been for the past few months.”

         “Leliana is still looking for you?”

         “ _Looking_ ,” she said, making little quotation marks in the air. “She’s become pretty crafty in the years since the Blight. I believe she’s calling herself a spymaster now for a new organisation set up by the Divine. I’m sure if she really wanted to find me, she’d have found me by now.”

         “Well, I wish you luck on your mission,” said Alistair, giving her a salute.

         “And I wish you luck with yours, your Majesty.”

         Alistair snorted. “Finding a wife is hardly a mission—well, maybe for me it is. I see your point.”

         “Goodbye, old friend. I hope we see each other again soon.”


	40. Chapter 40

_40 – Solona_

Solona trekked through the deserts of Orlais, her hand over her eyes to block sand carried in the wind pelting into her. She summoned a force-field to keep it at bay, allowing her to travel without spitting out sand every five seconds. She had followed new leads to cure the Calling, but every one of them fell short. People lied about curing their Calling for fame, or had tried and failed, resulting in their death. She began to lose hope, as if she were grasping at straws…

         Her entire body tensed, rooting her in place. Eerie music like whispers flooded into her brain, a sound so seductive and frightening she almost screamed. Quiet at first, it grew louder and louder. It was like nails scraping against a board, yet sweet like honey. It blocked out the sound of the wind that whipped around her. She covered her ears to silence the music, but it was coming from _inside_ her. Her breathing sped up until she was almost hyperventilating.

         _No…no not now! It cannot be! Not…not my Calling!_

         She took deep breaths to calm her racing heart, sitting herself down on the sand dune behind her. With pure willpower, the eerie music was almost silenced, until it was distant, background noise she could easily ignore.

         _I need to find that cure, now._

***

She arrived at an abandoned castle in Orlais, deep in a set of forests she could not recall the name of. The Calling in her mind threatened to drive her mad. It was always there, humming away at the back of her mind, resurfacing whenever she allowed her mind to wander.

         As Commander of the Grey in Ferelden, she had been called by the Warden-Commander of Orlais to a meeting. _Commander Clarel seemed worried in her letter to me—though she didn’t explicitly say what was worrying her exactly. I hope everything is alright._

         Having to put her personal mission with for a cure aside, she had shown the letter to her superiors in Weisshaupt, who had advised that she attend. The Wardens of Orlais had been acting strangely since a magical breach had opened in the sky, causing demons to spawn out of it. Solona had deliberately steered clear of those trying to close the breach, including her old friend Leliana. _I’m done being a hero, let someone else lead._ Instead she threw herself deep into Grey Warden work, now investigating the Orlesian Wardens under the pretence that she wished to help.

         Commander Clarel met her at the gates of an abandoned fortress under the cover of night, the stars twinkling in the sky above them. “Commander Solona,” she greeted her, her voice thick with an Orlesian accent.

         Solona bowed. “Commander Clarel, I got your letter.”

         Clarel was a woman with buzzed short white hair and a wrinkled face that looked as though she had seen many things, just as Solona had. Worry appeared to have eaten away at her, causing more wrinkles and deeper circles around her eyes. “Can you hear it?” she asked. “The Calling?”

         Solona frowned. “Since I stepped foot in Orlais, yes.”

         Clarel elaborated no further on the subject. “Please, follow me. Our meeting is about to begin.”

         Clarel led Solona into the heart of the fortress, standing beneath the stairs on the very top of the battlements. A huge number of Wardens waited for them, bowing as they approached. _I’ve never seen so many of us before,_ she thought, but then she remembered that most of Ferelden’s Wardens had been killed by Loghain, and it would take a while for them to rebuild. They had maybe half of the numbers here in Orlais, even after years of recruiting on her part.

         Waiting at the top of the battlements, standing high above the crowd of Wardens that had gathered on a lower level, was a man Solona had never seen before. He was not a warden, that was for sure, because he lacked the armour. Instead he wore white and red robes and had a large, ornate staff on his back. He gave off an air of arrogance, and something screamed at Solona that he was from Tevinter. _No mage from Ferelden or Orlais stands so proudly._ He bowed to both Warden Commanders, introducing himself as Lord Livius Erimond from Tevinter.

         _What is a Magister doing here in Orlais with the Wardens?_ Solona’s stomach twisted anxiously. _I have a bad feeling about this._ She stood to the side with Commander Clarel as Magister Erimond took centre stage, his arms open wide as he addressed the crowd.

         “I am a humble mage from a foreign land,” he began. “As is my master. We applaud you for your sacrifice and everything your Order does for all of Thedas. You would lay down your lives for ours without thanks. It is why I have come today, to repay you, to thank you.” He started pacing up and down the battlements, his hands moving constantly as he spoke. “I have heard that you can all hear the Calling at this very moment…”

         Solona held in a gasp. _Every Warden here can here it? It’s not just me?_

         “…You hear the distant hum at the back of your minds, calling you…telling you that your time has come. But all of you at once? That would mean all the Wardens are nearing the end of their lives…you are _dying_.”

         Panic spread amongst the crowd. It buzzed loudly in Solona’s chest, her heart racing. _No…if all the Wardens died…there would be no one to stop the Blight._ Beside her, Clarel was watching the Magister intently, desperately.

         “My master, Corypheus, and I have a solution that may help,” he continued. “You have not the time to make more Wardens, nor have the will to share your Order’s secrets so that others may continue your work—that is understandable. But tell me, Wardens…what is the one thing that causes Blights?”

         “An archdemon!” someone shouted.

         “Exactly. An Old God locked away deep underground, woken by darkspawn. Now…what if there were no Old Gods left to create Blights? What if…” He smirked. “What if we killed them first?”

         More whispers spread through the Wardens, some intrigued, some confused.

         “But how?” said Clarel. “Even if we called all the Wardens from every corner of Thedas to help us, we would be outnumbered against the darkspawn.”

         Erimond’s smirk widened. “I know a way, but it involves…unconventional means. You would have an army that none in Thedas could match! Send it into the Deep Roads and slay the archdemons before they wake!”

         Solona blinked. _It sounds…crazy! We couldn’t possibly have an army that large to defeat the endless hordes of darkspawn that lay beneath our feet!_ “What is this army you speak of?” she asked, her voice raising over the excited whispers. “It sounds impossible.”

         “Ah, but it would, I imagine, to a mage formerly from a Circle Tower,” said Erimond. “But in Tevinter we have… _other_ methods.”

         “What is it then?” asked Clarel. “Tell us!”

         “A demon army,” he said, sending the crowd of Wardens in uproar, including Clarel and Solona. “But wait!” he shouted over the commotion of shouts and defiance. “Do you not want to save this world? You would rather let it perish because of your pride? Sometimes, things are a means to an end! You of all people should know that!” Silence fell as his words sunk in. “Sometimes, we need to make the hard decisions for others so we can save the world, right?”

         “And what do _you_ get from all this?” Solona asked, stepping forward. “Why does a magister from Tevinter want to help us in the South?”

         “Because I do not wish to see my country, or yours, taken over by the Blight,” Erimond said innocently, “because there were no Wardens left to stop it.”

         “But…demon summoning requires blood magic,” said Clarel. “We do not practice that here, like you do in your country.”

         “As I said, sometimes things are a means to an end,” he replied. “Sometimes we must go against what others tell us in order to save them.”

         Solona shook her head, taking a step back beside Clarel. “This is madness,” she blurted. “Utter madness! How can you think that a _demon army_ would solve anything!”

         “Do you not hear it?” Clarel suddenly barked, turning on her. “Do you not hear the terrible music? Hear it clawing at your mind and very being! We are dying!” To Solona’s surprise, a lot of Wardens nodded along with their Commander. “This might be our one last chance to stop the Blights for good!”

         “This isn’t right!” said Solona. “We shouldn’t be able to hear it all at the same time!” She turned to the crowd of Wardens. “Some of you must have only joined a few months ago! It’s not possible! Something isn’t right!”

         “You know what isn’t right?” said Erimond, a sneer on his face. “A Ferelden Warden trying to tell Orlesian Wardens what to do.”

         Solona suddenly felt the eyes of hundreds upon her skin like fire, all glaring at her as if _she_ were the enemy. To her right, Clarel shook her head at her. “You can’t be serious!” she hissed at Clarel. “You’re trusting a Vint?”

         “I would trust a man willing to help us than a woman who runs from her duty!” she shouted, taking Solona aback. “I see you are not as committed to the Order as the rest of us. Perhaps there should be a new Commander of the Grey in Ferelden.”

         Solona had only seconds to react. Clarel whipped out her staff, along with Magister Erimond. She cast a protective shield in front of her as a fire and lightning spell flew towards her, colliding with a bang that sent her whizzing over the edge of the battlements through a gap between the stones. Air slapped her body as she fell, her body jerking in a panic as she again only had seconds to react. She cast a force of magic to surround her, slowing her fall until she gently touched foot on the ground. A bang erupted beside her, and a black streak across the sand told her that she was not safe yet. Behind her, spells and arrows flew at her back as she ran for her life across the sand, coloured grey from the moonlight.

         _Corypheus…I’m sure I’ve heard that name before._ Hawke had recently written her a letter explaining an expedition he and Varric had undertaken involving Grey Wardens and his father, Malcolm Hawke. _I’m sure he mentioned someone called Corypheus._

         Not daring to rest for a second in case any of the Wardens had chased after her, she left the Orlesian desert, running to the nearest civilisation to tell Hawke about what had happened. Perhaps he could shed some insight into who Magister Erimond’s master was.


	41. Chapter 41

_41 – Cullen_

Cullen breathed the first calm breath he had taken since Haven. _An entire town, encased in snow and rock…and many lay dead beneath it all._ He stood in the newly appointed war room in Skyhold, organising the pieces on the war table, ready for the Herald should she feel ready to begin her duty as Inquisitor.

         Despite having his doubts, his new position as Commander of the Inquisition’s armies was a lot easier than he previously thought. Away from the Templar Order, there was no pressure upon his shoulders to oppress mages—though he was still not completely comfortable around them. When Inquisitor Lavellan chose to go to the rebel mages for aid, he insisted that they be watched by the Templars that had followed him to become a part of the Inquisition. He knew his distrust was because of past experiences, so he ensured that they were not treated badly, just watched. _I am not yet ready to completely trust them._

         Leliana and Josephine joined him around the table. “So,” he asked. “Did the Inquisitor speak with whomever Varric wrote to for help dealing with Corypheus?”

         Leliana snorted. “Yes, and Cassandra is _furious_.”

         “Why, who was it?” asked Josephine.

         “The person we’ve been looking for. _Hawke, the Champion._ ”

         Josephine gasped. “No!” she cried, covering her mouth with her hands. “But you and Cassandra spent months searching for him! You say he could be summoned via a letter? No wonder Cassandra is furious.”

         “It seems Varric was not completely truthful with her during her investigation, which I can understand. He was only protecting his friend.”

         “We have a leader now,” said Cullen. “So it should not matter whether we found Hawke or not.”

         “You know Cassandra,” said Leliana. “She can hold a grudge for weeks, even months.”

         “She is…stubborn,” Josephine said carefully. “Anyway, what did Hawke say?”

         Leliana took up her position on the left side of the table and picked up a piece with a raven on it, admiring it in her hands. “Hawke has faced Corypheus before—fought and killed him by his admission. The Grey Wardens held him in captivity, and he somehow used his connection with the darkspawn to influence them. He turned them against one another.”

         “If the Wardens have disappeared,” said Cullen, “they may have fallen under his control again.” The very thought made anxiety bubble through him, his hands grasping the sword on his side for comfort. _Solona could be out there…under his control. Not that she’d want anything to do with me anyway…she probably hates me after what I did. Nor can I blame her for it._

         “Hawke said he had a cousin in the Wardens,” Leliana continued, “who just so happens to be a good friend of mine that I have not seen in a decade. Solona Amell, the Hero of Ferelden. She was investigating something, but the last time he spoke to her she was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, he’s heard nothing.”

         “Has she disappeared with the rest of the Wardens?” Cullen asked, a little too quickly for his liking.

         “No,” said Leliana, to his relief. “According to Hawke, she’s hiding in an old smuggler’s cave near Crestwood. The Inquisitor plans to head out as soon as possible to reach her.”

         “Why is she hiding?” asked Josephine. “I thought the people of Ferelden respected her?”

         “Other Wardens are looking for her,” said Leliana. “My spies have seen Wardens wandering around in places they shouldn’t, asking questions about a rogue Warden. It’s most likely Solona.”

         “Let’s hope the inquisitor reaches her in time,” said Cullen. He almost wished he could go with her to find Solona, but he doubted Solona would even want him there. _It has been so long since I saw her._ Some of the last words he said to her had been cruel and undeserving. Regret ate away at him like insects in a crop field, slowly gnawing, making him queasy, haunting his dreams. _If I could take it all back…I would._

         “I believe the Inquisitor will report in here to send us off with our own tasks before she leaves,” said Leliana, “as she does not know how long this mission will take. She should be here any minute.”


	42. Chapter 42

_42 – Solona_

Cold, damp, and dark. Three things Solona hated. Except this time, she had no choice but to suffer. She sat perched on the edge of a damp rock, the sound of dripping water echoing through the small cave she had hidden herself in. It was an old smugglers hideout, but the smugglers had taken most of their equipment with them, leaving nothing for Solona to make use of.

         She kept her focus on the little flames dancing around her palm. Here on the other side of Ferelden, the Calling was not so loud, for some reason, but it was still there at the back of her mind, singing its seductive and dangerous song that made her want to tear her hair out at times. But as long as she kept her focus elsewhere, it could be ignored.

         Irritation made her twitch and fidget. She had wanted to continue her mission on finding a cure for the Calling, but Commander Clarel had made that impossible. _I was so close to a lead, I’m sure of it!_ But now she had more important matters to contend with, ones that threatened her life.

         The sound of an old wooden door creaking startled her. Solona jumped to her feet and readied her staff, darting behind a tall rock covered in candlewax from the candles she had perched on top of it for some light in the dark cave. Several figures walked inside, none of which she recognised.

         Leaping out of her hiding place, she summoned electricity to her palms, sparks crackling between her fingers, taking her new guests by surprise. “Who are you?” she barked.

         Before they could answer, Hawke ran inside. “It’s just us, cousin! I brought the Inquisitor.” The years spent in Kirkwall had worn away at him. His skin was no longer youthful and perfect. His beard was shaggier, as was his hair, almost falling into his eyes now. He had a scar or two here and there, and across his nose sat a red painted line.

         Solona nodded, trusting Hawke implicitly. She lowered her hand, ceasing her spell, and put her staff back on her back-harness. The Inquisitor was a short woman, an elf with long orange hair shaved on one side, with startling green eyes that matched the Dalish tattoo decorating her face.

         “My name is Warden Commander Solona,” she said, “and I’m at your service, Inquisitor. Hawke has told me much about you.”

         “Most of you Wardens disappear, then I run into a darkspawn magister named Corypheus,” said the Inquisitor. “Do you think that one might have something to do with the other?”

         Solona sighed. “I fear that it might. When my cousin killed Corypheus, Weisshaupt was happy to put the matter to rest. But an archdemon can survive wounds that seem fatal, and I fear Corypheus may have the same power.” She wandered over to a table she had set up nearby, with a map and plenty of candles spread across it. “And now every Warden in Orlais can hear the Calling.”

         “I recall that being a bad thing,” said Hawke. “But I _don’t_ recall you telling me about _this_.”

         Solona avoided his gaze. “It’s a Grey Warden thing. I’m sworn to secrecy, remember?”

         “What is this ‘Calling’?” asked the inquisitor. “Is it some sort of Grey Warden ritual?”

         Solona snorted as she turned around, leaning back against the table. “I wish. The Calling tells a warden that the Blight will soon claim them. It starts with dreams…then whispers in your head which you can’t ignore…then a song…so beautiful and intriguing…yet it haunts every part of you until you’re—” She stopped herself abruptly, clearing her throat as Hawke shot her a look of concern. “Once a Warden hears the Calling, they say their farewells and enter the Deep Roads to meet their death in combat. Unfortunately, that’s _my_ fate one day.”

         “And every Warden in Orlais is hearing that right now?” asked Hawke. “They think they’re dying?”

         Solona nodded. “Yes, likely because of Corypheus.” She sighed, pushing stray strands of black hair away from her face. “If the Wardens fall, there’ll be no one to stand against the Blight. It’s our greatest fear.”

         “Then they do something desperate…” said Hawke. “Which is exactly what Corypheus wants.”

         “Is the Calling they’re hearing real, or is Corypheus mimicking it somehow?” asked the Inquisitor.

         “If he’s mimicking it, he’s doing a bloody good job,” Solona said dryly. “All I know is that the Wardens believe this Calling is real, and they’ll act accordingly.”

         The Inquisitor frowned curiously. “You said _all_ the Wardens are hearing the calling. Does that include you?”

         Hawke joined the Inquisitor with a curious stare, and Solona averted her eyes again. “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she muttered.

         Hawke stepped forward. “Why didn’t you tell me you can hear it too?”

         She brushed his concern away. “It doesn’t matter about me. There’s more important things at stake than a stupid song in my head. We must uncover what Corypheus has done and end it. This cannot stand.”

         The Inquisitor turned to a burly, bearded man standing beside her. “What about you, Blackwall? Are you affected too?”

         “I do not fear the calling,” he said. “Worrying about it only gives it power.”

         Solona furrowed her brow at him. _He’s a Warden? Why did I not feel anything?_ Normally Wardens had some sense of one another, due to the corruption inside of them, but this man, unable to look her in the eye, gave off nothing. “Warden Blackwall?” she said. “I know you. My friend, King Alistair, told me our mentor, Duncan, spoke highly of you.”

         “Ah…yes…Duncan,” said Blackwall, scratching his head. “A good man.”

         Before Solona could question him any further, the Inquisitor cut in. “So the Wardens think they’re dying and have stopped thinking clearly? That won’t go well.”

         “We’re the only ones who can slay archdemons,” said Solona. “Without us, the next Blight will consume the world.” She perched herself upon the table beside the map. “Warden-Commander Clarel is involved with a blood magic ritual to prevent future Blights before we all ‘perish’. I was there when it was announced. When I claimed the plan to be madness, the Orlesian Wardens turned on me.” She pointed to a desert on the map. “I’ve learned that Grey Wardens are gathering here, in the Western Approach, in an ancient Tevinter Ritual tower.” Hopping off the table, she added, “Meet me there, and we’ll hopefully find some answers.”

         Solona moved towards the door, but Hawke caught hold of her arm. “Oh no you don’t, cousin,” he warned. “You should’ve told me about you hearing this Calling.”

         She shook her head at him. “And if I had, what could you have done about it?” she asked. When he could not reply, she removed her arm from his grasp. “I appreciate your concern, Hawke, but it’s not needed. I’ll hear it one day anyway—for real.”

         “Does that mean Carver will…that he’ll hear it too?”

         She nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry. But thankfully we had him moved from the Free Marches as this began. From my understanding, he wouldn’t hear it now, being so far away. Don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine. As…As will I.”

         “You sacrifice too much, Solona.”

         “Well, it _is_ in our motto,” she joked. “ _In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice._ Unfortunately, you can’t skip the last part.” She turned to the Inquisitor. “Anyway, it’s good to finally meet you. I hope I see you soon in the Western Approach. I don’t know how much longer I’ll remain hidden. I think my luck is wearing out.”

         “Come to Skyhold with us,” said the Inquisitor. “We can hide you from the Wardens searching for you until we’re ready to go to the Western Approach.”

         Solona hesitated. “Oh…well I…I don’t think I should get involved with your organisation.”

         “You’re already involved,” said Hawke, “through me. I’m going back too. Come with me.”

         _Well, I suppose it’s better than staying in this damp old cave. I might even get a decent bed for the night_. “Alright,” she agreed, “I’ll come.”

         “Everyone will love the Hero of Ferelden being there,” Hawke teased. “Perhaps you’ll give them inspiration to fight harder.”

         Solona cringed. “Don’t say that. Inquisitor, I assure you I have no intention of raining on your parade, as it were.”

         “I grew up learning about your heroic acts,” said the Inquisitor. “Even if they happened ten years ago, they’re still valid today. Having a person like you on our side would really bolster our forces and give our people confidence that we’re doing the right thing. I’d appreciate all the help and influence you can give.”

         Solona chewed on her lower lip. “Well, I suppose when you put it like that…” She nodded affirmingly. “Well, come then. Show me this ‘Skyhold’ you mentioned. I’m eager to see the stronghold of the mighty Inquisition.”


	43. Chapter 43

_43 – Solona_

Even from a distance, Skyhold was magnificent. It stood out amongst the snow-covered mountains, standing tall and proud with Inquisition banners hanging from its stone walls, swaying gently in the cold breeze.

         It was a mighty hike to get there. By the end of it, Solona’s toes had frozen in her boots and her fingers threatened to fall off from the cold, but as soon as she stepped inside she felt a buzz of hope and determination like a slap across the face. People gasped and waved at her as they usually did once they recognised her—especially since she wore her warden uniform—so Solona politely waved and smiled back at them.

         _“The Hero of Ferelden!”_

         _“Look! It’s Warden Amell!”_

         “ _Commander of the Grey! Saviour of Thedas!_ ”

         She internally cringed at the attention but kept a meek smile upon her face. Hawke beside her lapped up the attention thrown his way, smirking and waving as if he were royalty. She rolled her eyes at him, holding back a laugh.

         In the centre of the battlements stood a tall and intimidating castle that cast a dark shadow over them all. _No wonder people are scared of messing with these people. Just look at their fortress._

         A woman stood at the top of the steps leading inside, her red hair peeking out from beneath a hood. “Solona!” she greeted her, almost running down the stairs to embrace her with open arms. “I never thought I would see you again.”

         “Not in the flesh anyway,” Solona joked, returning the embrace. “I write to you every month, Lel.”

         “Don’t say that too loudly,” she whispered, pulling away.

         Solona tapped the side of her nose. “Of course. Your secret’s safe with me.”

         Leliana composed herself, standing tall, rigid, and proud. Not much had changed about the now-turned spymaster of the Inquisition since Solona had last seen her. She looked just as she had ten years ago, with the same short red hair and little braid, with the exception of a few deep lines on her face that showed hardship and consistent frowns. “Come then, follow me inside,” she said. “You have many people staring at you right now.”

         “I always do,” Solona said through a sigh, following Leliana and the Inquisitor inside.

         Skyhold was not as grand on the inside as it was outside. Banners still hung on the walls in amongst giant chandeliers, but scaffolding and builders were working tirelessly to patch up sketchy-looking supports and crumbling walls. People from all over Thedas filled its halls. Orlesians, Fereldens, Free Marchers… Elves, humans, dwarves, Qunari… Nobility and farmers. Solona’s jaw almost dropped in awe at the sight of it all. _She’s gathered quite the allies. I wish I had a nice castle during the blight I could invite all my allies to stay in_ , she thought jokingly. _In any case, she’s done well for herself._

         A flash of red, blond hair, hazel eyes. Solona stopped dead in her tracks, breath squeezed out of her as if someone had held her in a choke hold. Heart thudding loudly against her ribcage, she gaped at the person who had just entered the main hall. She hardly recognised him at first. He looked so different to when she had last seen him. His hair was no longer youthfully curly, instead sleeked back away from his face. A few scars dotted his face, particularly over his lips. His Templar armour was gone. Instead he wore silver armour with red robes, and a fur cape around his shoulders. Their eyes met across the room, causing him to jolt to a halt like a rabbit in sight of a wolf.

         “S-Solona,” he stuttered.

         She forced herself to breathe. “Cullen,” she said, as calmly as she could manage without her voice breaking. So many feelings threatened to bombard her all at once. It was so strong she almost forgot about the calling in the back of her mind. Anger, fear, sadness, love, anxiety… Nausea rose in her throat. She wanted to shout at him more than anything for what he had done to her, but he did not look like the young man who had hurt her. He looked more mature, more…dared she say it… _attractive._

         “I…didn’t expect you to…ah…” Cullen cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m glad to see you are well.”

         “You two know each other?” asked the Inquisitor.

         Solona nodded. “We were in Ferelden together, during the Blight,” she answered, her voice quiet. Memories, both good and bad flashed before her eyes, making her heart ache inside her chest. She quickly diverted her gaze away from him as he continued to stare at her, as if soaking her all in. “Where will I be staying?” she asked.

         “Y-You’re staying here?” Cullen asked.

         “I invited her,” revealed the Inquisitor, “so she could hide from those who wish her harm. You can stay in one of our spare rooms, Commander Amell.”

         “You can just call me Solona,” she insisted. “I don’t care for fancy titles.”

         “Titles give you power and influence,” said Leliana, gesturing for Solona to follow her through a doorway. “You should not turn them away so easily.”

         “Yeah, well, maybe if you ever had people shout at you through a window whilst trying to use a chamber pot, you might feel the same as me,” she joked, making Leliana laugh. People around them whirled round to the sound of their spymaster laughing, as if it were a rare phenomenon. Solona took a closer look at her friend. She did look older with the lines in her face, and her eyes told a story of darkness and despair, the light that once sparked in them having faded. _The Divine’s death must have hit her hard_ , she thought. _I will have to discuss it with her later._

         Leliana took her to the back of the castle and showed her to a little room practically out of sight, hidden away from the visiting nobility. _Just how I like it._ “You can stay here whilst you’re with us. This was going to be Blackwall’s room, but he decided to stay out in the stables instead.”

         Solona plopped herself down on the small bed. All around her were bits of worn or broken furniture, but Solona didn’t mind. It was comfortable enough, and a place she could call her own for a while. “Speaking of Blackwall,” she said, “you know he’s not a Warden, right? He doesn’t have the taint in him.”

         Leliana nodded. “I know. Having travelled beside two Grey Wardens for a year, I would like to think I know a bit about the Order. When I asked him a few questions, he lacked the information even recruits in the Order would know.”

         “Then why is he here, continuing to pretend he’s one of us?”

         “I thought he may actually be involved with the Order somewhat, or could at least give some information in their disappearance. Now I am just curious about his intentions and what he will do next. Anyway, I shall leave you to get settled in. Perhaps we can meet later.”

         Solona smiled. “It’s good to see you, _Nightingale_.”

         Leliana chuckled. “Likewise, _Commander_.”


	44. Chapter 44

_44 – Solona_

Skyhold was filled with people wherever Solona turned. A lot of them wanted to meet the famous Hero of Ferelden from the tales of ten years ago who had defeated the Blight—most of them Orlesian. They cooed and gawped at her, hands touching her armour and eyes widening as they took her all in.

         Thankfully, Varric Tethras, of whom Solona had met during her time at Kirkwall, managed to sneak her away as she barely made her way through the entrance hall. “Are you doing alright? All those people barely gave you any space to breathe!”

         Solona laughed, sitting with him at his table beside the fireplace. “I’m sure the novelty of my appearance will wear off soon enough,” she replied. “Hopefully I’ll be able to walk three steps without someone bombarding me with questions like, _‘what’s an archdemon like?’ ‘are you_ just friends _with King Alistair?’ ‘do you know where the Wardens have gone?’_ ” She shook her head in dismay. “I’m used to it by now. It’s why I like to keep out of the spotlight.”

         “I’m afraid that won’t work for you here,” said Varric. “It’s done some good for my book sales though. Sold almost twice as much as I did before this all began. Their author being a member of the mighty Inquisition might have something to do with that.” He pulled out a stack of cards from his pocket and started shuffling them absentmindedly. “So, have you met many of the key members here?”

         “Not really, no,” she answered. “I haven’t had much of a chance to.”

         “Well, there’s Sera, Cole, and The Iron Bull in the tavern just outside—we should head there later for a drink. Cassandra is always taking her feelings out on the innocent dummies just outside the tavern. Blackwall stays in the stables mostly, like a caveman. Uh…who else… Dorian and Lady Vivienne—or _Madam Du Fer_ as she calls herself—are upstairs in the library, along with Leliana, but you know her already. Solas, our Fade expert, is on the ground floor just through there,” he pointed at the door beside them. “Then there’s Josephine our ambassador, and Cullen, our Commander from—” He stopped as he noticed Solona’s face drop at the commander’s name.

         “Why is he here?” she asked quietly, hands curling into fists in her lap. “I thought he was still in Kirkwall.”

         “Leliana and Cassandra hired him as Commander of their—at the time—small army. I heard he was planning on leaving the Templars anyway—”

         “So he’s not actually part of the Order any longer?” Solona asked, frowning. “But he was so devoted to it…he can’t have, not with so many mages around. I heard the Inquisitor allied with rebel mages led by ex-Grand Enchanter Fiona. He can’t have…”

         “He has,” Varric confirmed. “If you’re so doubtful, why not ask him?”

         Solona shook her head. “I do not wish to speak with him.”

         Varric leaned forward in his chair. “Look…I know he betrayed you an’ all, but Curly isn’t like that anymore. He’s changed.”

         “Templars don’t change, Varric. They have fear of magic ingrained in them from when they join. Tell me he has changed in his attitudes towards mages and I’ll believe you, but I doubt you can tell me that.”

         Varric scratched his head. “Well…I wouldn’t say he’s still afraid of them. Just…ah…wary. But that’s to be expected…”

         “Of a Templar,” she finished for him. “Once a Templar, always a Templar. You didn’t see him in Kirkwall when he tried to cut me down in the final battle of Kirkwall. He showed me then where his loyalties lay, and it was not with me. So do not ask me to speak with him again.”

         Varric shrugged. “Fair enough. I won’t press you.” To lighten the mood, he asked, “Do you remember how to play Wicked Grace?”

         Solona smiled. “Of course. Why, want to see if I can beat you again?”

         Varric chortled. “Beginners luck! I’ll show you who the real master of Wicked Grace is…”

***

The Inquisitor called for a meeting in the war room. Solona filed into the room with Leliana, where Ambassador Josephine—an Antivan woman, the Inquisitor, and Commander Cullen waited for them.

         “I wanted to organise a few things before I head out together to the Western Approach to investigate Warden activity in the area,” the Inquisitor began. Solona leaned against the edge of the table as the others placed little figures over a map, moving them about the table. She gave her advice here and there when prompted, but mostly sat back and watched. It was not her organisation after all. They seemed to know what they were doing.

         Her eyes occasionally lingered on Cullen when he was moving pieces about the map with little fists on them. The time between now and Kirkwall seemed to have aged him. He had a more serious look in his eye, older, wiser. It was strange to see him out of Templar Uniform, but he still wore the classic red colour of the Templar Order.

         “How do you think the Inquisitor should approach the Wardens?” Josephine asked Solona, her quill scribbling against the paper on the board in her hands. “Do they have a certain etiquette they prefer? Something that will make them take her seriously?”

         “To be honest,” Solona replied, “the only thing you need to do is prove that you believe the Blight to be a serious threat. That’s really all the Order cares about—with good reason of course. As long as you assure them that you understand w-why they are…why they are…doing t-this…” Her voice trailed off as the music flooded her mind. Sweet and deadly, it sung through her body, choking the words from her throat. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table. Distantly, she heard voices speak, but she barely heard them over the roar of the music that threatened to consume her very soul…

         “SOLONA!” Leliana’s sharp voice and a hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present with a little gasp. “Are you alright?”

         Solona breathed deeply, gathering her bearings. _It’s okay…It’s okay…_

         Cullen slowly moved around the table, but kept his distance, as if she were a wild animal. “Is something the matter?”

         She shook her head, as if ridding herself of the music, though all it did was push it to the back of her mind. “I’m fine, sorry,” she said, straitening herself up. “Where was I… Oh, yes, the Wardens. So if you just—”

         “You’re hearing the Calling, aren’t you?” Leliana interjected. “Why did you not tell me?”

         “I thought Hawke might have,” she muttered, chewing her lip. “It’s fine, nothing to worry about.”

         “It’s not fine! You’re hearing Corypheus’ Calling!”

         All eyes fell upon Solona, some fearful, some worried. One pair of Hazel eyes she felt the most, like fire on her skin. She swallowed hard under their gaze, her knees suddenly feeling weak. “I-I’m fine,” she said shakily, gripping on to the table again. “I know it’s not real. I’m—”

         “Oh do not give me that heroic rubbish,” said Leliana. “You are _not_ fine.”

         “We’re not doing this _now_ ,” Solona demanded. “I’m here to help the Inquisition deal with the Wardens. We can worry about me another time.” She held herself tall, taking deep breaths to tune out the deadly song from her mind, before continuing to give her advice to the Inquisitor about how to approach the Wardens. “For now, I believe we should go to the Western Approach to see what they’re up to before we can decide how to act. We don’t know exactly what we’re up against.”

         “We?” said the Inquisitor. “You want to come too?”

         “I’m going whether you want me there or not,” Solona said determinedly. “This is _my_ Order you’re dealing with. I’m Commander of the Grey in Ferelden. That must count for _something_ at least, and if Hawke is going, so am I.”

         “I can’t argue with that.”

         “Inquisitor,” Leliana stepped in, “I insist that you leave Solona here. It cannot be safe for her or you to take her when she’s hearing—”

         Solona slammed her fist on the table, so hard it made little pieces judder and fall off the map. Sparks flew from her fingers. “Do not proceed to control me, Leliana,” she warned. “I’m going to help stop Clarel and the Orlesian Wardens if it’s the last thing I do. I am bound by duty to stop them, and I don’t care what you think on the matter.” She turned on her heels and marched towards the door. “I will prepare to leave as soon as you are ready, Inquisitor,” she added, before slamming the door closed behind her.

***

Solona shoved things hastily into her pack. Spare clothes, a water skin, rations, bandages. Anger coursed through her, but it was self-inflicted. _I shouldn’t have shouted at Leliana like that,_ she scolded herself silently. _I will have to apologise later. She meant no harm. It’s only because we’re friends and she cares for me._

         Whilst rummaging through the little belongings she had with her, she came across a few crumpled letters that she had kept with her. One from Zevran that she had received a few months ago before going into hiding, about a few close encounters with the crows. They entertained her like bedtime stories, and she would always laugh about how dramatic he made them sound, when in reality he probably just ducked out of sight rather than face them head on with dramatic battles, as he described.

         Another was from Oghren. It was a short note rather than a letter, but it let her know that his daughter, Solona—of whom Oghren had named after her—was doing well and was learning to wield an axe like her papa. Oghren had included a crude drawing of the little dwarven girl, which she was sure was meant to be a serious drawing of his daughter, but looked like something a child could have drawn. Solona kept it anyway, as it always brought a smile to her face. _I’ll have to visit little Sol again when this is all over, if she still remembers me._

         Alistair wrote to her almost weekly whenever she was away, asking her to come and see him and to complain about his royal duties that he loathed doing, but was now after ten years finally getting used to. She could not keep all of his letters with her, otherwise her pack would be filled to the brim with them, but she had his most recent one that contained his concern about hearing the Calling. She had written to him about Corypheous and how it was a fake Calling all Wardens could hear, including herself, and assured him not to take any drastic actions until she had returned to tell him all was well. _I hope he listens to me._

         She also had a letter from Wynne, one of the oldest and most worn, but the writing was still legible. Solona had heard of her heroic end, sacrificing herself to save another. She missed the old woman who she thought of as a dear friend. She had listened to and advised Solona on many occasions when she needed her, but since she had passed, it was like a hole was missing in Solona’s heart. Her last letter from the elderly mage told her to stay strong and keep going, no matter what life threw in her way. So Solona kept the letter close to remind her of Wynne’s words that often gave her comfort in dark times.

         She had not heard anything from Sten, since they had defeated the Blight ten years ago, but she knew he had done well for himself, becoming the new Arishok after the last one died at Hawke’s hands. Alistair had seen him for himself in the new role, and said little but ‘it suits him just fine’.

         Shale could not write with her stony hands, and therefore she had also not heard from the stone giant in years, but Wynne had told her, up until she had passed, that Shale was alive and well. _I hope it has stayed that way_.

         Morrigan…well, _no one_ had heard from Morrigan since the Blight. After she had gone through the Eluvian, no one had seen her since. It worried Solona, since Morrigan had supposedly pregnant with Alistair’s child that had saved both their lives, but she was sure Morrigan was more than capable of handling herself, being a Witch of the Wilds with Flemeth as a mother.

         A knock at the door brought her out of her memories. She shoved the letter back into the bottom of her pack before shouting, “Enter,” without turning round.

         The door behind her creaked open. “I-I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

         The voice made her body tense, fingers grasping the handles of her pack tightly until her knuckles turned red. “Cullen,” she said curtly, without turning round. “Was there something you needed?”

         He took a hesitant step into the room. “I…I came to see if…well, if…you were all right.”

         She whirled round to face him. “If I’m all right?” she said with a snort. “Why would _you_ care if I’m all right?” She shook her head at him and returned to loading her pack. “I have to prepare for the Western Approach.”

         Cullen closed the door behind him. Solona’s body immediately ignited with adrenaline, preparing for the worst.

         “I…I know you must loathe me,” he began, his eyes lingering on her back. She could feel them like needles on her skin. “But you must know…I feel terrible for what happened in Kirkwall. The choices I made…the people it affected…I severely apologise to you.”

         She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You apologise? For what exactly? Tell me what you’re sorry for, Templar.”

         “I’m no longer with the Order,” he said. “I left to join the Inquisition.”

         “Rubbish,” Solona spat. “You wouldn’t have your back pressed up against the door to keep as much distance between us as possible if you didn’t still think like a Templar. I’ve heard that your attitude to mages hasn’t softened in the slightest, only been restrained.”

         “I cannot change how I feel so easily,” he said stiffly. “I know that my attitude before was unkind and unnecessary—”

         “Try _cruel_.”

         “—but I am trying to change that. I left the Order I have devoted half my life to in order to make myself a better person and to better the world. But I did not come here to argue with you.” His hands rested on his sword. Not threateningly, however. As if for comfort, for reassurance. “I came here to talk you out of going to the Western Approach with the Inquisitor and Serah Hawke.”

         “Well you might as well leave now because that won’t happen. I don’t know why everyone is so insistent that I stay behind. The only person who actually agrees with me is the Inquisitor, and since her word is practically law around here, I’m going.”

         “She doesn’t truly understand what the Calling is and how it affects the Wardens—”

         “And _you_ do?” She moved towards him until they were only a meter apart. He stood rigid like a statue in her presence. “Do not try to understand something you’re not a part of. Unlike you, I can’t run away from my Order. I’m a part of it for life, bound by blood.” She turned to her pack, closed it tight and slung it over her shoulder. “I may hear the Calling, but I know now that it’s not real. I’m not dying, _yet_ anyway. I have to stop my Order from doing something so stupid that it could set us back hundreds of years and have us kicked out of Thedas. Then who will stop the Blights from ravaging the land? Certainly not your beloved Templars, or your rebel mages.” She grabbed her staff propped up against the wall behind Cullen beside the door.

         “What if he tries to control you?” Cullen blurted. “What if Corypheus uses your connection to the Blight that you both share to cause you harm?”

         Solona stopped in her tracks, hand resting on the door handle. “I do not understand your concern,” she said. “You were quite happy to cut me down in Kirkwall. Why do you care now if I live or die?” She looked back at him. “Because I’m a mage, right? Mages are capable of great power, which they keep under control themselves, but like an abomination, my powers could be used for bad if under Corypheus’ control.”

         “I’m more concerned about the damage he will inflict on _you_.”

         “Don’t try to feign concern for me,” she warned. “I know that you’re just worried about how another mage will get out of hand. But don’t worry, we’re not all brainless and power-hungry like you believe.” She threw open the door and stormed out, leaving Cullen staring numbly after her.


	45. Chapter 45

_45 – Solona_

The Western Approach was a dry and dusty place. The hot sun hit Solona’s skin, warming her to the bone. Beads of sweat appeared over her forehead as she stood beneath a crumbling ruin, hiding from the harshest of rays in the shadows it cast. _I’m slightly regretting wearing my Warden armour now._ Her skin was hot and clammy inside her armour, but she kept herself hidden in the same spot, her back pressed against the stone, waiting for the Inquisitor, Hawke, and their followers to arrive.

         She had arrived ahead of them to stake out the place before anything else. At least thirty Wardens had gathered further inside, many mentioning the ritual Solona had heard of before she had been attacked and forced to flee. Many screams and magical spells followed, along with a build-up of corpses being tossed aside, leading her to believe that by the time the others arrived, they may have already started this ‘ritual’.

         The Calling was louder here, harder to block out. She resorted to humming under her breath in order to keep it at bay—a song Leliana had sung at camp one night ten years ago. It was fine when she had something to do, but when her mind was unoccupied, the Calling creeped into the foreground, threatening to swallow her.

         Eventually, along the hazy horizon, she spotted Hawke and the Inquisitor clambering over a hot sand dune. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she said as they approached, peering past the ruins further inside. “I fear they may have started without us.”

         “Blood magic I’d wager,” said Hawke, taking a look for himself. “You can smell it…or see the corpses.” Bodies were piled up along the sides, discarded like tools. A sickening sight for anyone, but more so for Solona. They were Warden bodies. “You take point,” he told them all. “I’ll guard your backs.”

         Solona followed the Inquisitor and her followers, Hawke close behind. She kept her eyes pinned on the Inquisitor’s back, not daring to let them wander around at the madness that had taken over this crumbling ruin.

         Ahead of them, a larger pile of Warden bodies sat to one side. A group of Warden mages lined both sides of the ruin, mindlessly staring at one rogue Warden in the centre, who cowered before them all. “Wait…” he pleaded. “No!”

         At the top of the steps behind them, a man dressed in a white, flamboyant Tevinter coat stepped forward with a smirk on his face. “Warden-Commander Clarel’s orders were clear,” he sneered.

         “This is wrong!” the Warden shouted.

         “Remember your oath: In war, victory. In peace, Vigilance. In death…”

         A Warden mage stepped forward, a blade in hand. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, before bringing it across his fellow warden’s throat.

         “…sacrifice.”

         A fiery Rage demon shot out of the ground beside the Warden mage, growling and snarling at them all.

         “Good!” shouted the magister. “Now, bind it, just as I showed you.”

         The Warden raised their hand to the demon, which cowered and screeched, before the magister waved his hand that glowed a dangerous red. The same red glow flickered into the Warden’s eyes, before they sunk into line with their peers, all of whom had demons by their sides.

         The party marched onto the scene, looks of horror on all of their faces. “Inquisitor!” said the magister. “What an unexpected pleasure. Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service.” He did a little bow. “And the Hero of Ferelden…we meet again.”

         Solona simply glared back at him.

         “The one Clarel let slip. So you found the Inquisitor and came to stop me. Shall we see how that goes?”

         The Inquisitor stepped forward. “Wardens!” she shouted, gaining their attention. “This man is lying to you! He serves an ancient Tevinter magister who wants to unleash a Blight.”

         Magister Erimond cocked his head to one side. “That’s a very serious accusation. Let’s see what the Wardens think.” He turned to them. “Wardens, hands up.” The Wardens obeyed without question, raising their hands. “Hands down.” Again, they followed his order.

         Solona gasped, dashing forward beside the Inquisitor to see their red glowing eyes. “Corypheus has taken their minds!”

         “They did this to themselves,” said the magister. “You see, the Calling had the Wardens terrified. They looked _everywhere_ for help.”

         “Even _Tevinter_ ,” said Solona.

         “Yes. And since it was my _master_ who put the Calling into their little heads, we in the Venatori were prepared. I went to Clarel full of sympathy, and together, we came up with a plan: Raise a demon army, march into the deep roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake.”

         “Disguising,” Solona spat. “You tricked them, taking advantage of their fear and desperation.”

         “Sadly for the Wardens,” Erimond continued, ignoring Solona, “the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect. They’re now my master’s slaves.” He began pacing back and forth atop the stairs. “This was a test. Once the rest of the Wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas.”

         “So Corypheus influenced the Wardens and made them do this ritual?” asked the Inquisitor.

         _Please agree, please agree,_ Solona begged internally. _Please tell me they were forced…_

         Erimond laughed. “Ha! _Made_ them? No. Everything you see here? The blood sacrifices to bind the demons? The Wardens did it of their own free will. Fear is a very good motivator, and they were very afraid.”

         “That’s a lie!” shouted Blackwall behind them. “The Grey Wardens are heroes! They would never do this willingly!”

         _He may not be a Grey Warden, but at least he respects us._ Solona shot him a grateful look.

         Erimond merely sneered at him. “The Grey Wardens care about nothing save stopping Blights. They will do _anything_ to accomplish that.”

         “Not true,” said Solona, anger boiling in her belly at the smirking magister, and the mindless mages around them. “We care about the people of Thedas as well. They would never do something so drastic unless the situation was dire, which you made them believe it was!”

         “You should have seen Clarel agonize over the decision. Burdens of command, I suppose.”

         “Release the Wardens,” the Inquisitor demanded, unsheathing her daggers, “from the binding and surrender. I won’t ask twice.”

         “No,” said Erimond. “You won’t.” He pointed his hand towards her, glowing red again. With a crackle, the Inquisitor’s hand glowed green, and she crumbled to her knees, clutching it to her chest. “The Elder One showed me how to deal with you, in the event you were foolish enough to interfere again.”

         Solona knelt by her side to see the Inquisitor grinding her teeth together, a small groan escaping her lips. “What are you doing to her?”

         “That mark you bear, Inquisitor…the Anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil? You stole that from my master. He’s been forced to seek other ways to access the Fade. When I bring him your head, his gratitude will be—”

         The Inquisitor shot to her feet and pointed her glowing green palm to the magister. He cried out in surprise as she shot a blast of green energy towards him, knocking him off his feet.

         He scrambled to his feet and cried, “Kill them!” to the Wardens before fleeing from the scene. Solona readied her staff to make chase after the magister, fury fuelling her to kill him before he could get away… Then the Wardens turned on them on his order, staffs out ready for battle, their demons by their sides.

         “No! Stop!” Solona cried. “You do not wish to fight us! I’m a Warden, like you! Surely you don’t wish to—” She darted out of the way as a Warden mage shot a spell towards her. “Listen to me!” she screamed, casting a protective shield before them. “Magister Erimond is wrong! Surely you can see that! You’ve murdered your own kind!”

         But the Wardens had no remorse in their eyes—in fact their eyes were glazed over and blank, as if someone else was in control.

         “It’s no use!” shouted Hawke. “Corypheus has taken their minds! They leave us no choice.” He dispelled Solona’s shield, summoned fire to his palms, and threw it towards the Wardens opposing them, blasting them back into the walls behind them.

         A fight broke out, spells flying everywhere. Solona did her best not to kill any of them, allowing the others to take the final blows. She could not bring herself to do it, to kill a brother or sister in armour. Her heart ached, as if she had been the one stabbed in the chest as part of the ritual, to see her fellow Wardens sink this low. _What will people think of us now?_ she wondered, blocking a blast of lightning that crackled towards her chest. _They only respect Wardens during the blight. After this…they will never forgive us._

         After all the Wardens were slain, their demon counterparts nothing but dust beside them, the party gathered together. “So…” said Hawke, “that went well.”

         Solona closed her eyes, hanging her head in shame. “Through the ritual, the mages are slaves to Corypheus.”

         Hawke swivelled. “And the Warden warriors?” Silence followed. “Oh, of course. It’s not _real_ blood magic until someone gets sacrificed.”

         The Inquisitor patrolled the area, arms crossed over her chest in thought. “Human sacrifice, demon summoning… Who looks at this and thinks it’s a good idea?”

         Hawke answered, “The fearful and the foolish.”

         Solona frowned. “The Wardens were wrong, Hawke, but they had their reasons.”

         “All blood mages do,” he replied. “Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify bad decisions.” His eyes flickered distantly, as if lost in a memory. From the pained look on his face, Solona assumed he was thinking of his mother, Leandra. “And it never matters. In the end, you are always alone with your actions.”

         Solona avoided his gaze. “I believe I know where the Wardens are, your worship,” she said quickly, changing the conversation. “Erimond fled in that direction.” She pointed to their right. “There’s an abandoned Warden fortress that way. Adamant.”

         “Solona and I will scout out the fortress and confirm that the other Wardens are there,” said Hawke. “We’ll meet you back at Skyhold.”

         The Inquisitor nodded approvingly, leaving Hawke and Solona to follow Erimond’s trail.

         They hiked across the sandy sea, hands in front of their eyes to shield them from the sand. Their journey was a silent one, tense and uneasy, a feeling Solona had never gotten from Hawke before.

         “You can’t seriously be defending them,” Hawke said eventually as they clambered up the side of a sand dune.

         “They’re desperate,” she said defensively, keeping her back to him as she climbed up ahead. “They just want to save the world.”

         “By using _blood magic._ What a great idea. Perhaps I could have done that in Kirkwall and killed all of the Qunari with a demon army that would’ve eventually slaughtered everyone in the city.”

         Solona spun round to glare at him. “You don’t understand the Order. No one can unless you’re in it. Your brother would.”

         “Don’t bring Carver into this,” Hawke snapped.

         “Well it’s true! You can’t understand unless you’ve faced a Blight and understood the danger behind it.”

         “You seem to forget that I was in Ferelden during the Blight. My family was forced to flee because of it. I know about Darkspawn and Archedemons and all that. You Wardens are so dramatic! _Oh no one understands us, boo hoo, you have to be a part of our satanic club to really understand!_ _We would sacrifice everything including each other to defeat the blight!_ ”

         “It’s in our motto!” Solona screamed, a sprinkle of sand entering her mouth, but it did not phase her, spitting it out before continuing. “Sacrifice is what we do! We sacrifice our lives to defend _you_! We suffer so you can live!”

         “Well _you_ didn’t sacrifice anything!” Hawke shouted back. “I lost everything! My mother, my brother and sister! I have no one!”

         Solona’s eyes stung as sand and tears irritated them. “You don’t think I sacrificed too? You don’t think I’ve lost people that I cared about? I have sacrificed more than you know, Garrett Hawke.”

         Hawke laughed humourlessly. “Ohhh! Should I be scared because you used my full name?”

         Solona made a disgusted noise with her throat and continued over the sand dune without him. “Think what you like, Hawke,” she said without looking at him. “It matters not to me. I know in my heart that the Wardens believe they’re doing the right thing to help Thedas.”

         Hawke made a comment behind her back, but she did not hear it as the wind blew harder around them. In the distance, the abandoned fortress, Adamant, stood tall and mighty, casting a huge shadow over the sand. _Here we go. Let’s check it out._


	46. Chapter 46

_46 – Cullen_

Cullen walked through the throne room on the way to his room, a clipboard in hand, reading the list upon it as he went. _So many things to do…this list is never ending. Every time I get close to finishing it, Leliana, Cassandra, and Josephine add more to it._ He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. _I’ll get it done_ , he thought decidedly.

         He stopped in his tracks as two people entered through the heavy entrance doors. The hinges creaked, echoing through the room. Solona and Hawke marched in, shoulders tense, neither looking at one another. Not a word passed between them as they parted ways, Hawke sitting down with Varric beside the fireplace near the entrance, Solona heading towards the war room.

         _They must have just got back from scouting Adamant. But why so tense between them?_ Hawke and Solona always seemed to be the best of friends. Something had happened between them, Cullen was sure of it, but he was not sure _he_ was the best person to ask about it. He was not close with Hawke, and Solona…well, she had made it clear about her feelings towards him.

         He changed direction and followed Solona into the war room, where Josephine and Leliana where already waiting for them. “I have news from Adamant,” she said as she walked in, taking her harness off. She dumped her pack and staff at the side of the room and pressed her back against the wall, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

         She informed them all that the long-abandoned fortress was no longer abandoned. It seemed the Wardens had taken up residence within its walls. They could not get too close, due to lookouts watching all four directions, but from what Solona and Hawke had seen, the mages were in control there, the warriors nowhere to be seen.

         “It looks like that’s their base,” said Solona, leaning against the war table. “That’s where we need to face them and whatever they’re planning.”

         “How soon can we approach them?” asked Leliana, turning to Cullen.

         Cullen kept his eyes on the table, not trusting himself to look at Solona. Her almost-white skin had tanned in the heat of the Western Approach, giving it a golden glow, highlighting many freckles across her nose and cheeks that had not been there before, just visible as she swept her long black hair away from her face. Cullen cleared his throat before her spoke. “We need more time to bolster our forces,” he informed them, “to ready the men and mages. If we attacked now, unorganised and untrained, it would be a disaster, especially when Adamant is such a grand fortress. It’ll be hard enough as it is just trying to penetrate their walls with highly trained men and women inside.”

         “Then we must look elsewhere so we do not waste time,” said Leliana. She wandered around the table until she was on Orlais’ side of the map. “We must go to the Winter Palace and protect the empress. The Inquisitor told us that Corypheus is looking to conquer it, and we must stop him. If we cannot stop him in one place, we should try in another.”

         “Empress Celene is holding peace talks in the coming days,” said Josephine, scribbling away on her board with her quill. “I can try to get us—or the Inquisitor, rather—an invitation.”

         “Do we have to go?” Cullen grumbled, flicking a spare quill across the table aimlessly, continuing to avoid Solona’s eyes.

         “We do,” Leliana said firmly. “As do you.” Cullen looked up to see she was talking to Solona.

         “Why me?” the warden asked with a frown.

         “Your influence would help us greatly in such a political climate,” said Josephine. “Orlais adores you, and to have you on _our_ side would benefit us.”

         Solona sighed. “So you need the _Hero of Ferelden_ to make you look good. I don’t particularly want to go to an Orlesian ball, thank you very much, especially since I’ll just be used like a tool. That’s all I seem to be these days, a tool.” Cullen noticed her fingers begin to drum against the table. _Perhaps as a comfort,_ he thought, as her brows knotted together painfully. _Is she hearing the Calling right now?_ “I save the world,” she continued, “and now I’m just a fancy gem that sits on the shelf and gets polished every now and then when it’s needed to be out on show.” She shook her head. “I’m not going.”

         “But you must,” said Leliana, “we need you.”

         Solona’s teeth began to grind together, her body stiffening. Cullen sensed something was wrong as she closed her eyes, her breathing becoming ragged. He moved around the table cautiously and dared himself to place a hand on her shoulders. “If she does not wish to go,” he said, “we cannot force her.”

         Solona’s body seemed to relax beneath his touch, her shoulders sagging. Straightening, she rolled her shoulders, as if to relieve them of tension. Cullen’s hand slid down to her back. “I apologise,” she said stiffly. “I can hear… My head is not… you know.” She looked to Leliana apologetically. “If you need me to go, I will. Just don’t make me out to be some sort of _prize_. I’m a person you know.”

         “Of course, I apologise,” said Leliana, bowing her head. “I will inform the Inquisitor of what you have told us at once. Josephine, did you get all of it?”

         “I did,” the scribe replied. “I will write up a copy for you to hand to the Inquisitor.”

         The pair left the room together, their voices dying away.

         “Cullen?” said Solona, her voice making him jump. “Your hand is…”

         He flinched away from her, recoiling his hand as if she were boiling hot lava. “I-I…I apologize, forgive me, I…”

         She did not look at him, but he thought he saw a flicker of a smile at the corner of her mouth. “Thank you,” she said quietly, before she followed Josephine and Leliana out of the room, leaving Cullen with his hand hovering in the air, as if unsure what to do with it. He shoved it down by his side immediately, a red head flushing across his face.

         _Ugh, why can I not be normal around her? Why do I act like a teenage boy with a crush?_ Whenever he looked at her, he was not sure how to feel. Instant attraction always grasped him first. Her long, black hair, slender body, startlingly blue eyes, plump pink lips, now with freckles across her pretty face… it was enough to make his heart leap out from his chest. But then darker feelings would swoop in, like a shadow in the night. Guilt at what he had done to her. Remorse for how he had acted, made her feel. She was almost made tranquil because of him. She was made a Warden because of him. She was suffering…because of _him_. Although he had thought these things many times over the years, he felt them just as hard every time, the pain never diluting.

         He turned to face the war table behind him, clutching the edge just as Solona had. All of a sudden, weakness overcame him. His legs trembling, arms twitching, he crumbled to the ground, head in his knees. He took deep breaths as the darkness within his body threatened to resurface.

         “NO,” he moaned quietly. “I quit…I quit…I no longer take you…please…”

         Lyrium called to him, begged him to take it again. The blue liquid sung to him like the Calling did to Wardens. Pain shot through his torso, his legs, his head. He wrapped his arms around his body rocking back and forth, thankful that this attack had not happened whilst others were present…

         The door to the war room opened, startling Cullen. He looked up with wild eyes to see Cassandra Pentaghast walk in, her brows frowning in concern. “Commander?” She knelt beside him. “What is the matter?”

         “I have…I stopped t-taking…l-lyrium,” he mumbled, clutching his head with his gloved hands. “I can’t…I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take the substance that makes me a Templar. I can’t be the person she hates…” His words trailed off as sobs wracked his body.

         Cassandra chewed her lip. She was clearly not sure what to do, switching from rubbing his back to patting his head. “Tell me what to do, Cullen,” she said. “What do you need?”

         “Do not tell anyone,” he pleaded. “I do not want anyone to know.”

         “Of course,” she promised.

         “If…If my ability to lead is compromised, you must remove me from duty,” he begged. “I cannot be trusted in this condition. I can manage it for now, but if it worsens…”

         “That will not happen,” she insisted. “You have lasted this long. I’ve heard that lyrium withdrawal is always hard, but you seem determined to stick with your decision. I cannot remove such a determined man from duty.”

         “If I cannot lead, you must instead,” he demanded. “Until I get better, at least.”

         Cassandra nodded. “If that is what you wish.” She got to her feet, and helped Cullen to his. “How are you now?”

         Cullen breathed deeply until the pain in his body slowly faded into a dull ache. “Better.”

         “Good, then get back to work, Commander. I have reports for you that need oversight.”

         Cullen smiled. “Yes, Lady Cassandra.”


	47. Chapter 47

_47 – Solona_

Solona braced herself as the golden gates leading towards the Winter Palace came into view. Music could already be heard from this distance, playing beautifully from inside from string instruments. On horseback beside the Inquisitor, they rode towards the entrance, Lady Josephine giving them plenty of advice.

         “Grand Duke Gaspard invited you here, Inquisitor, as his guest. We must ensure that he is pleased, so whatever you do, do not upset him.”

         “I’ll compliment his stupid mask and frivolous outfit,” the Inquisitor replied, scratching at her clothes. She wore a formal red coat with a sash across her body, clearly uncomfortable in it. She was used to Dalish clothes no doubt, that exposed much of their skin to the air, like tribal clothes did. Solona wore her famous Grey warden armour, without the plate across her torso. It was a leather version, so it looked more like a coat than a piece of plate, embossed with the griffon emblem of her Order.

         Hawke had refused to go, stating, ‘ _I’ve already been to enough Orlesian parties to last me a lifetime_.’ Although she had a funny feeling that Hawke did not want to go because they were still not talking to one another. _It’s best we’re apart for now,_ she thought. _No need to add any more tension here than there already is._

         Cullen was behind her on his horse, looking as uncomfortable as the Inquisitor, perhaps more so. He wore the same red coat and blue sash, although he kept patting his body, as if lacking something. _He must be uncomfortable without his armour. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in anything else._ She snuck a peek at him, pretending to fix her hair. He kept his sword on his belt, occasionally gripping the handle with gloved hands, or smoothing down wispy pieces of golden hair that fell into his eyes.

         “Stop fussing, Cullen, you look fine,” Solona teased, the words escaping her mouth before she could stop them.

         Cullen blinked, as if startled that she had spoken to him. “I-I’m not worried about my appearance,” he said quickly. “I just…I’m anxious to reach the Empress before Corypheus does.”

         “We all are,” Leliana agreed. She looked more like she did ten years ago now than when Solona had reunited with her a couple of months ago. Her red hair free from her hood, she still wore it with a little plait that fell down one side of her head. Solona smiled at that, thinking that perhaps she had kept it that way because once upon a time when they were travelling together in their late teens, she had complimented the bard’s hair. Leliana’s face was stern now, however, her eagle eyes scanning the area suspiciously.

         “The political situation in Halamshiral hangs by a thread,” said Josephine, as they drew close to the gates. “The Empress fears our presence could sever it. The Grand Duke is only too happy to have us at the ball as his guests, so our invitation comes from him. Whether we act as his allies, or upset the balance of power, he gains an opportunity…if not a clear advantage.”

         “So glad I’m not meddling in more political affairs,” Solona muttered, with a sly glance at Leliana. She returned her look with a smirk.

         They dismounted at the golden gates, leaving their horses with the men who would stay stationed outside during the ball. With an entourage of armoured Inquisition soldiers surrounding them, they entered the Winter Palace, the guests gasping at their presence. Their eyes widened as they spotted the Inquisitor walk inside the grounds, an elf with large pointy ears, and they bulged out of their skull when they saw the Hero of Ferelden follow in after her.

         Duke Gaspard strolled towards them, a grin on his face. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor Lavellan,” he said, voice slick with slime. “Bringing the rebel mages into the ranks of your army was a brilliant move.” The eyes behind his golden mask ran over the people behind the elf, lingering on Solona for a moment before returning to the Inquisitor. “Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful _Emperor of Orlais!_ ”

         He must have thought his words would flatter, but the Inquisitor made no gesture that they had. “Exactly what would be required to get that imperial support?” she asked.

         The Duke twitched at the bluntness of her question. “I am not a man who forgets his friends, Inquisitor,” he replied. “You help me, I help you. These elves…Briala and her people, I mean, they are meddling in things here, I know it. Always skulking in corners and watching everyone. Intruding where they do not belong.”

          “We will keep your offer in mind,” Solona said quickly, cutting in before the Inquisitor could give another blunt reply. “Thank you.”

         The Duke smiled slyly at her. “The great Hero that saved Ferelden, it is an absolute _honour_ to meet you, my dear.” He reached forward and planted a kiss on the back of her hand. Cullen tensed beside her. “You must promise me a dance later, my lady, I insist.”

         Solona plastered a false smile on her face. “If that is what you wish,” she replied. “Inquisitor, we should head on inside. I’m sure the Empress is waiting for us.” She removed her hand from his and took the lead, giving the Inquisitor a little tug on her sleeve to get her moving. “Is something the matter?” she asked the elf quietly as they passed the Duke up the steps behind him.

         “Yes, are you _insane?_ ” Josephine hissed at their side. “You cannot be so rude without consequences.”

         “He suspected my people just because they’re _acting funny_ ,” the Inquisitor replied, nose curling angrily.

         “He’s Orlesian, what do you expect?” Solona replied. “They’re all a bit on the loopy side here.”

         “Seconded,” Cullen agreed. Solona turned to see his face had gone bright red. “I think someone just touched my backside on the way up here.” She looked over his shoulder to see a man and a woman giggling and whispering in their direction.

         Josephine pulled the Inquisitor aside, bringing the party to a stop. “A moment, Inquisitor,” she demanded. “I must warn you before we go inside— _again_ —how you speak to the court is a matter of life and death. It is no simple matter of etiquette and protocol. Every word, every gesture is measured and evaluated for weakness.”

         The Inquisitor snorted. “Don’t they sound delightful. I’m shocked we haven’t invited the court to dinner at Skyhold.”

         Josephine did not laugh, however. “The Game is like Wicked Grace played to the death. You must never reveal your cards. When you meet the Empress, the eyes of the entire court will be upon you. You were safer staring down Corypheus.”

         “Everything will be fine, Josephine,” said Solona, patting her arm comfortingly as the scribe's cheeks flushed with anxiety. “We can do this.”

         “And _you_ ,” she said suddenly, grasping onto her arm, “you must do your part as well. Mingle. Tell everyone how you are with our organisation now, how we’ve helped the world. That we are _good_. If a well-respected hero tells everyone that we are a force for good, they might just listen.”

         “I told you before, I’m not happy to be here, but I’ll do my part, just like the Inquisitor.”

         Josephine sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Andraste watch over us all.”

         Inside, the Winter Palace was jaw-droppingly grand. Everything was colourful, expensive, and ornate. Solona clenched her jaw to keep it from falling open at it all. The golden staircases were lined with handmade carpets, hundreds of candles were lit everywhere you looked, great statues stared as you as you passed, and the _food and drink_ , elves were serving it everywhere on golden platters. Wines, ales, cheeses, meats, breads, fruits…you name it, it was there. Solona had eaten only an hour ago, but her mouth was already salivating.

         The Iron Bull behind her muttered, ‘mmmm’, at the sight, his Tevinter on-off-boyfriend-not-really-boyfriend chuckling at him. “Oh, Amatus, you do make me laugh sometimes.”

         They were led by an Orlesian guard through the Vestibule and into the Ballroom, where everyone important was waiting for them. One at a time, they were announced.

         “And now, presenting!” he began, unrolling his scroll of paper. “Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons.” The Duke strolled into the room as if he owned the place, giving the Empress who stood on the opposite side of the room a theatrical bow. “And accompanying him… Lady Inquisitor Lavellan!”

         The Inquisitor bowed to the woman with white hair in a deep blue dress, a metal lion head plaque attached to her back.

         “Accompanying the Inquisitor, Solona Amell, Hero of Ferelden. Vanquisher of the Fifth Blight. Commander of the Grey. Arlessa of Amaranthine. Champion of Redcliffe…”

         _I think they get the point! I have many titles!_ Solona walked forward beside the Inquisitor and bowed to the Empress. All eyes fell upon her once again, though by now she was so used to the sensation that she brushed it off, keeping her eyes focused ahead of her.

         The announcer continued. “Madam Vivienne, First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi. Enchanter of the Imperial Court. Mistress of the Duke of Ghislain.

         “The Iron Bull, leader of the famed mercenary company Bull’s Chargers. As the name might imply.

         “The Lady Inquisitor’s Elven serving man, Solas.”

         The Inquisitor’s fingers clenched at the mention of Solas as a serving man. The elf himself grunted in disapproval.

         “Warden Blackwall of Val Chevin, Constable of the Grey, Bearer of the Silverite Wings of Valor.

         “Her Ladyship Mai Bhalsych of Korse.”

         The loudest snigger erupted from behind them. She could not help it, but Solona let slip a smile at the cheeky elf’s prank.

         “Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena—”

         “ _Get on with it_!” Cassandra barked.

         _She has more names than I do titles!_ Solona thought amusedly.

         “—Pentaghast. Fourteenth cousin to the King of Nevarra, nine times removed. Hero of Orlais, Right hand of the Divine.

         “Renowned author Varric Tethras. Head of noble House Tethras, Deshyr of Kirkwall to the Dwarven Merchants Guild.

         “Lord Dorian Pavus, member of the Circle of Vyrantium, son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asriel.

         “Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath.”

         _Stanton? That’s his middle name?_

         “…Commander of the forces of the Inquisition. Former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall.”

         “Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court. Veteran of the Fifth Blight. Seneschal of the Inquisition and Left Hand of the Divine.

         “And Lady Josephine Cherette Montiliyet of Antiva City. Ambassador of the Inquisition.”

         She hung back as the Inquisitor and the Duke walked forward to greet the empress, standing with Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine. After they had spoken, the ball began. Music erupted from instruments, warmth glowed from the candles, laughter and joy filled the air. _How could anyone feel uneasy in a place like this?_ But she knew that if Leliana and Josephine had warned them to keep their guards up then she should be wary.

         “Okay,” said the Inquisitor as she joined them. “Let’s see if we can find out anything.”

         “Let’s split up,” Solona suggested. “I’ll cover one side, you the other.”


	48. Chapter 48

_48 – Solona_

Solona mingled with as many guest as she could, though it was hardly a challenge. Everyone wanted a piece of the fabled Hero of Ferelden. The hard part was trying to get something _useful_ out of them, instead of showers of compliments and begging for her to tell them about her adventures over the past ten years.

         “Yes, it was all very dangerous, but if I could just ask—”

         “And what about the archdemon? How big was it? Was it really as big as a castle?”

         “It was very big, of course, at least ten times the size of me. But I wondered if you knew anything about—”

         “Is Ferelden still recovering from the Blight? I’d like to visit there one day, to see the historic sights, like Denerim Castle and the Korcari Wilds…”

         “I wanted to ask if you have seen—”

         “Are you still friends with King Alistair? Is it true that you rejected his proposal to become his wife?”

         “H-How could you… Well, no, that’s just a rumour. I seriously just need a moment of your time—”

         “And the nightingale! You are good friends with her, no?”

         It took every fibre of her being not to snap back at them. They were like children, gawping around her as if she were sweets on a platter. Nevertheless, she squeezed her way through the crowd swarming around her, deciding that she was not going to get anything out of these nobles. It was like walls closing in on her, restricting her breathing. Bodies threatened to squash her into walls and corners, places without escape. Her fingers twitched as she resisted the urge to summon magic to her palms and blast them all back.

         Eventually she made it to a safe spot, just behind a statue of a golden lion, just out of reach. She gasped for air in the open space, her back pressed against the cold metal. _What use am I here? Perhaps I could be a distraction, but no one seems to want to answer my questions._ Ahead of her, she noticed another swarm of people ogling at something. _At least it’s not me_.

         “Smile, Commander! You’re so handsome when you smile!”

         “He’s just as handsome when he doesn’t.”

         Solona could make out a panicked voice from within the crowd of Orlesian nobles. “D-Did you just… _grab my bottom_?”

         “Hehe! I couldn’t help myself!”

         “Are you married, Commander?”

         “N-Not yet, but I am…my heart lies with someone already.”

         “Still single then…”

         “You must dance with me, Commander! You cannot stand about all evening!”

         “I’m afraid not. T-Thank you.”

         Solona could just make out Cullen’s golden hair above the crowd, his voice becoming more strained by the second. _I feel compelled to rescue the poor man_. She took a deep breath to steel herself before diving back into the sea of Orlesians, pushing her way through to the him.

         “Commander,” she said as she reached the inner circle around him, where Nobles were running their hands over him like a glazed ham at the centre of a feast. _They’re almost drooling_. “I need a word, outside.”

         His eyes widened in hope at the chance of escape. “Yes, of course!” he said, almost too eagerly.

         “If you will excuse us, ladies and gentlemen, we have inquisition business to discuss. I will not keep him from you long.”

         Solona grabbed him by the wrist in case someone tried yanking him back and led him through the crowd across the ballroom and out onto an open balcony that seemed deserted.

         “T-Thank you,” he gasped, leaning back against the balcony wall. A film of sweat coated his forehead. “I didn’t think I would ever escape them and their insistent questions on my love life…”

         Solona bit her lip to keep herself from laughing. “You’re welcome.”

         “I haven’t managed to speak with anyone about any suspicious activity yet. Have you had any luck?”

         “No,” she replied with a little shake of her head. “They just want me to talk about my time during the Blight.”

         “At least you aren’t being groped every five minutes,” Cullen grumbled, fixing his uniform. “Or having your privacy invaded.”

         “Okay, you win,” she amusedly. “You’re having the worst time. I suggest you stay out here for a while until they find someone else to gawp at.”

         She turned to walk away, but his fingers closed around her wrist this time. “Are you going back in there?” he asked. Her eyes flicked down to his hand on her arm. He released it immediately. “You can…you could…stay out here with…with me.”

         Her heart twinged at the longing in his eyes. It compelled her to stay, her body moving without consent, it turned back to face him, a smile on her lips. “I’ll get us something to tire us over, okay? Drinks and food. I’m not coming all this way without sampling an Orlesian banquet.”

         “You’ll come back?”

         She nodded. “Sure.” She muttered, “Back into the flames I go,” before jumping back into the ball. She stuck to the walls in search of a servant carrying food or wine, whilst dodging incoming nobles who wanted a piece of her in every direction.

         All of a sudden, a hand grasped her arm and yanked her into a corridor she had not seen behind a statue. Darkness engulfed her for a moment, before her eyes adjusted from the brightness of the Ballroom. A hand with black nails released her, then rested on her plum and black dress.

         “Well, well, well…what have we here?”

         Solona gasped, eyes widening. “Morrigan?!” Without warning, she threw her arms around the witch, holding her close. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

         Morrigan stiffened in her grasp, before reluctantly patting her back. “‘Tis good to see you again, old friend.”

         Solona pulled away to look at her. She wore a dress for the first time in…well, _ever_. Her hair was still the same, ink black and slicked back into a bun, her eyes a bright yellow. “You’ve barely changed.”

         “Neither have you.”

         “What are you doing here? I thought you were disappearing with your…oh my goodness, you’re a mother!”

         “Did you forget about that?” Morrigan said with a smirk. “Yes, I have a child.”

         “They’re alive and well?”

         “I am sure you will meet him soon enough.”

         “ _Him?_ ” _Alistair has a son._ “Is he here?”

         “Yes, but out of sight. I do not want the nobles suspecting him. He is just a boy who lives here, no connection to me, a _Witch of the Wilds_. I do not want my influence to taint him.”

         Solona smirked. “I take back what I said. You _have_ changed. You’re…softer.”

         “Shut up,” Morrigan snapped, but without malice. “I have spoken with your Inquisitor. It seems you are here for more than just the ball.”

         Solona lowered her voice. “You know about Corypheus?”

         “‘Tis why I am here, to protect the Empress as her Magical Advisor. I had better get back to her side before anything should happen to her, but I could not go without…without seeing you again.” She looked down at her hands, fiddling with her gloves. “I have…I regret to say that I…I missed you.”

         Solona smiled. “I’ve missed you too. Ten years…it’s been too long. I hope we can speak more later.”

         “I will be seeing you sooner and more often than you think,” Morrigan said suspiciously, before walking away. “I shall speak to you later, however.”


	49. Chapter 49

_49 – Cullen_

Cullen took every breath of fresh air as if it were his last, savouring the peace and freedom out here on the balcony. He sat himself on a stone bench, resisting the urge to pull of his clothes. He felt naked without his armour, and stupid in this ridiculously itchy formal coat. He only wore it at Josephine’s insistence, as they all had to wear _matching outfits_ to look like a professional team. _We’re at an Orlesian ball sniffing out the enemy, not at a tournament._

         He ran his hand through his hair, waiting for Solona to come back. _I hope I didn’t scare her off_. He had been thankful that she had rescued him from the nobles that groped and ogled and gawped over him. Unease rippled over his skin, sending a shudder down his spine. _I am never coming here again, if I can help it._ They called Fereldens untamed and dog-lovers, but were these people any better? They became excited over the littlest piece of gossip, the latest trend, the most expensive foods. _Frivolous things. At least we Fereldens know what really matters._

         Envy had almost swallowed him when he noticed that Solona was able to keep her Grey Warden uniform, where the rest of them had to change. _Why does she get to keep her armour and mine is practically ripped off me?_ He was eager to get it back on, excited to leave this place. He would be glad to see the back of it.

         A voice brought him out of his thoughts. “Sorry if I kept you long, I ran into an old friend.”

         He looked up from his knees to see Solona carrying two plates of food. Two goblets of wine floated beside her, held up by magic no doubt. He surprised himself when he did not flinch at the use of magic, but smiled instead at her resourcefulness. She sent one hovering over to him which he caught in the air, and then handed over his plate of food.

         “Thank you,” he replied, his stomach rumbling at the sight of the food. It was all too fancy for him. _Give me bread and steak any day_. But he was thankful for the food and tucked into it eagerly.

         She sat on the bench beside his, creating distance by placing her plate and goblet in the gap between them, like a little wall. “I had to use a cloaking spell to safely get myself to the food and back,” she said, taking a sip of her wine, “similarly to how rogues seemingly become invisible. I’ve only tried the spell a couple of times, but it worked well enough.”

         Silence fell over them as they ate, neither knowing what to say to the other. Cullen knew what he wanted to say. Here, in such a beautiful place that made Solona’s eyes light up with wonder, he wanted to tell her what she meant to him, what she had always meant to him. How he felt about her, how he wanted to hold her, to bring those lips of hers close to his, to be able to tell her that he…that he _loved_ her. But there was an invisible barrier between them, put up by her. He wanted to grab his sword and break it down, but he feared that words were needed to break this one.

         “Solona,” he began. Her head turned at her name. His lips moved, but again the words were choked from him. He tried to squeeze out what he really felt, but it was as though his terrified heart blocked them, so instead he said, “How do you like the food?”

         “It’s a little too rich and fancy for me,” she replied casually. “I prefer Ferelden food. I mean, these little cakes look tasty,” she pointed to a cube of chocolate cake, drizzled in fruit juice and decorated with icing, “but I prefer Ferelden’s sugar cookies. Much simpler, but tastier.”

         “They’re my favourite too,” he said quietly, “for the same reason.”

         Her brows furrowed as she looked at him, now pushing the food around his plate without eating anything. He could not stomach it. The battle raging inside of him zapped away at his appetite. “You look like a man with something on his mind, Commander.”

         He swallowed hard. “I know I’ve said this before, but…I really am sorry for what I did to you. I was a fool and I would never wish harm upon you.”

         Solona sighed, putting down her plate. She balanced the goblet on her knee, fiddling with the ornate designs around the cup, avoiding his gaze. “You shouldn’t have had to say it twice,” she said softly, taking a large sip of wine. “I’ve held this grudge for far too long. I see you’re not the man you were in Kirkwall. I…I am sorry. I’ve acted like a child.”

         “No, you have had good reason to,” he insisted. “I let Meredith get inside my head and exploit my fear of magic. What happened to me…none of it was your fault, though I blamed you. I know who to blame now, and that is _me_.”

         “We’re both adults now, almost thirty—well, _I am_. I don’t know how old _you_ are.”

         “I am thirty.”

         “Anyway, what happened was in the past. There’s no need to dwell on it. We should move on and…start afresh. What do you say?”

         Cullen smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

         She smiled too, but there was a mischievous look in her eye. “You know, those nobles aren’t wrong. You do look handsome when you smile.”

         Cullen’s face flushed red, a nervous laugh spluttering from his lips. “Oh…I…um…”

         Solona giggled. “I’ll get us some more wine,” she said, scooping up both their goblets, and almost skipped out of the balcony. But as she passed the doors leading into the ballroom, she dropped the goblets, sending them clattering across the floor.

         Cullen jumped up and was at her side in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

         Her face was screwed up in concentration, as if listening to something he could not hear. “I can…he’s close by…Corypheus, he’s…”

         “You hear the Calling?”

         “It’s louder now. Normally it’s background noise, but I think he’s close.” She closed her eyes, teeth grinding again. “I think the Inquisitor might be in danger.”

         He placed a comforting hand on her back. “Then let us gather Josephine and Leliana and discuss where we go from here.”

         As they re-entered the ballroom, the Empress announced that she would be starting her speech at any minute, so the guest began to gather around, forming walls in their path. They squeezed through the crowd of people guests and made it to the other side, where Josephine and Leliana were waiting for them.

         “What is it?” Leliana asked, seeing the strain on Solona’s face.

         “Corypheus is near,” she answered. “Or his lieutenants or…or something. I can feel it. Where’s the Inquisitor?”

         At that moment, the Inquisitor slipped into the room. Her clothes were torn and battered, as if she had been in a fight. “What happened to you?” Josephine gasped.

         “Thank the Maker you’re back,” said Cullen. “The Empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?”

         “The Grand Duchess is the assassin,” she answered, readjusting her clothes as best she could to look presentable. “Don’t let her anywhere near the Empress.”

         “The Duchess? A-At once, Inquisitor.” Cullen said with a bow, before racing off to command their men to detain her.

         The announcer cleared his throat. “Let all gathered attend! Her Imperial Majesty will now address the court!”

         Empress Celene came into view, the crowd cheering and waving at her. “Lords and Ladies,” she began when all fell silent, “As a nation we mourn our sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, friends and lovers claimed by war.”

         Cullen commanded his men to slink through the crowd without much of a fuss and slowly moved towards the Empress and the Duchess behind her. The Orlesians watched the Empress in awe, as if she were a beautiful golden statue.

         “The sky is torn open, our Divine is dead, and many fear the end of all things comes upon us. Orlais must stand as a bastion, a bulwark behind which all Thedas may take shelter. So has it stood for a thousand years! So shall it ever stand.”

         The crowd clapped and cheered again, and the Inquisitor used the commotion to follow Cullen’s men, moving close to the Empress.

         “This would not have been possible without the efforts of many. Dear cousin, please step forward.”

         The Duchess prowled into the spotlight towards her cousin, a determined look on her face.

         “Grand Duchess, stand down!” the Inquisitor shouted.

         Cullen’s men charged in, removing the Empress from the Duchess’ grasp. The Duchess pulled out a knife from up her sleeve and stabbed it into an Inquisition soldier’s chest as he attempted to detain her. Solona thrust out her palm and sent magic spiralling towards the Duchess, wrenching the blade from her hand.

         “Now!” the Duchess screamed, and out of the crowd popped dozens of jesters with daggers in hand. “For Corypheus, kill them all!”

         A bloodbath ensued around them. Nobles, without their weapons in such a grand place, were slaughtered by the jester-assassins, blades sending blood spurting everywhere.

         “Protect the people!” the Inquisitor shouted, chasing after the Duchess who immediately fled the scene.

         “Don’t let her get away!”

         Cullen’s entire body tensed as screams, the sounds of battle, and blood wrenched him from the ball room. He squeezed his eyes shut as fear gripped its talons deep into his chest. _The circle tower, the torture, Ferelden…_ His mind flew back to that dark place before he could stop it, his breath ragged, the grip on his sword slipping.

         “CULLEN!” screamed a voice that brought him back. Solona stood in front of him, a blade in her hands. She kicked a man before her in the stomach and send the blade deep into his chest. “Don’t just stand there!” She twirled on the spot and blocked an incoming blade soaring towards her head. “Do something!”

         But his body was frozen, his mind a haze, everything seemed so distant…

         Two hands gripped his shoulders. “Cullen!” His eyes locked onto hers as she stood before him, blood trickling down a cut across her cheek. She yanked him to the side and forced him to look at her. “Cullen, look at me. _Look at me, please_.” He did as he was told, allowing himself to relax in the depths of her blue eyes. “We’re in the middle of a fight, your men need you sane. Calm yourself!” She released him as a jester lunged at her. Jumping out of his way, she kicked him in the back and set him on fire, sending him screaming away.

         Cullen’s body stayed rooted to the ground, heart thrumming so loudly he could hear it in his ears. He wanted to flee, but could not move. All he could see was the demon that looked like _her_ , but wasn’t her, taunting him. Teasing him. Torturing him until…

         A sudden pressure upon his lips sent a jolt through his body like lightning, alighting his veins with adrenaline. His eyes widened as Solona pulled away. “Wake up, Cullen,” she begged. “We need you right now.”

         Fear drained from him, making room for courage. He unsheathed his sword and sliced it through a nearby jester about to take down a screaming noble. “Men, protect the nobles!” he cried over the sounds of battle. “Try to evacuate as many as you can!”

         Solona smiled over her shoulder whilst dealing with another assassin.

         With Cullen back in command, the Inquisition men were not acting blindly. They followed orders and disposed of the assassins—the rest of the assassins decided to flee, seeing the battle was lost. It was not long before the Inquisitor returned also, the blood on her clothes meaning that the Empress had died by her hand. “It is done,” was all she said, before calling for a meeting with Gaspard, Briala, and the Empress.

         Cullen helped his men give aid to the nobles who had been hurt in the battle, and gather the bodies of those who had been slain. Josephine barged through the crowd to see that her little sister had lived, hugging her with tears streaming down her face.

         Solona knelt nearby, tending to the wounds of a dying nobleman. Her magic closed the wounds, allowing him to heal faster with a greater chance of survival. “Well done for taking charge back there,” she said, rising to her feet to find the next person in need of healing.

         “I couldn’t have done it without…” He felt the ghost of her kiss upon his lips. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Thank you.”

         “I have attacks like that sometimes,” she said. “It’s difficult to come out of the spiral of thoughts that try very hard not to release their grip on you.”

         “You…You have them too?”

         “I do. The side effect of being in battles all your life is that the horror of them never leaves you. For me, it’s always in my dreams.” She reached over and patted his arm. “Well done.”

         She walked away to tend to the next person, leaving him standing there awkwardly, staring after her once again.

***

“Lords and Ladies of the court,” said Empress Celene, “the civil war which has plagued us is at an end. The Orlesian Empire is whole again!”

         The nobles that remained had been healed and cheered enthusiastically in the crowd, slightly thinner now that they had lost a few members of court.

         “Those who drove us into war for selfish gain have been dealt with as traitors. We have lost enough. No more! Now we can move forward to healing and restoration…”

         But Cullen was not listening as he stood beside Leliana and Josephine at the side of the room. His eyes were locked on Solona standing on the other side with the Inquisitors companions. _She kissed me._ He unconsciously reached up and touched his mouth, remembering the rush that came with it. It was better than any feeling Lyrium had given him. He wanted it to happen again, and again. Perhaps he could hold her, kiss her back—not that he’d ever kissed anyone before.

         The Empress gestured to her right, where the Inquisitor stepped up beside her. “In our hour of need, the Inquisition has faced these dangers beside us. It is the honour of Orlais to stand with Andraste’s Herald to end this crisis. And in ages to come, our children and grandchildren can say that we left them a brighter world.” She then gestured for the Inquisitor to address the court.

         “We will save Thedas from calamity, but only _together_ may we accomplish this.”

         “We will heal our wounded country,” said the Empress. “A long road of reconstruction lies before us. But tonight we celebrate the arrival of peace. Let the festivities commence!”


	50. Chapter 50

_50 – Solona_

Solona sat in Skyhold Gardens with a book in her lap, feet propped up on the opposite arm of the wooden bench she sat on. The sun beamed down on her, warming her skin. The air was cold up in the mountains where they were, but here in the gardens the large walls surrounding it blocked the wind, shielding those within. It was a perfect place to grow plants and herbs that the Inquisition needed.

         Solona lost herself in her book, blocking out the chattering chantry women and elven servants that tended to the gardens. Cassandra had given her a copy of Swords and Shields. It was _atrociously_ bad, but she was unable to put it down. Cheesy, but romantic. Slightly predictable, yet dramatic. A great read.

         “You look small for a mighty hero,” said a tiny voice.

         Solona jumped out of her skin, almost falling off the bench. Clasping her chest, she sat up, eyes searching for who had spoken. A little boy with black hair and a griffon plate on his chest stood watching her curiously.

         “Your blood is very powerful. Do you have nightmares too?”

         Solona blinked at him. _He looks just like…_

         “You’re Morrigan’s son, aren’t you?” she said, sitting up. He looked like a spitting image of her. His hair was ink black, his skin pale, his eyes curious, but not yellow like hers. No, they were grey, like Alistair’s—perhaps the only thing he had inherited of his. You would not have thought this boy had Therin blood in him.

         “I’m Kieran,” he said, and offered his hand.

         She shook it with a smile. “Nice to meet you Kieran, I’m Solona.”

         “I know. Mother’s told me all about you. How you saved Ferelden and killed the archdemon, Urthemial. That you’re kind and honest and brave. She also said you’re her only friend…”

         _She thinks that highly of me still, after all this time?_

         “Do you know who my father is?” he asked suddenly.

         Solona gulped. “Y-Your father? Why, don’t you know?”

         Kieran sighed. “No,” he said with a little shake of his head. “Mother won’t tell me. She says he was a good man but that’s all I know.”

         Solona patted his shoulder. “I never knew my father either, or my mother. I was locked away in a Circle for the first two decades of my life.”

         Kieran gasped. “How horrible! Mother says Circles are like prisons for mages because people fear them.”

         “That’s true,” she said sadly. “People fear magic, so they try to control it, and in turn…us.”

         Kieran plopped himself down on the bench beside her, his small legs swinging off the edge. “Well, I don’t think you’re scary. Even though you’re connected to the Blight, I think you’re nice.”

         Solona chuckled. “Thank you, Kieran. I like you too.”

         “What are you reading?” he asked, reaching over to grab the book she had propped on the arm of the bench.

         She swiftly tucked it away behind her back. “That’s not a story for kids, young man,” she said playfully. “Maybe one for when you’re older.”

         “It’s not one of mother’s spell books, is it? I’m not allowed to read those either. Not yet.”

         “Are you a mage then?”

         Kieran shrugged. “I don’t know. Mother said sometimes magic takes a while to appear in someone. Maybe I will be, maybe I won’t.”

         _He’d probably know by now if he was_ , she thought, but did not want to take away the hope that sparkled in his eyes at becoming a mage.

         “Hey, we have matching clothes!” he said, pointing at the griffons on their chests. “My mother always told me to respect your order. Maybe my father was a Grey Warden! Do you know who it could be?”

         Solona’s palms began to sweat as the conversation turned awkward again. _How do I answer that? Clearly Morrigan doesn’t want him to know that Alistair is his father, but what do I say?_

         “I don’t unfortunately,” she replied as calmly as possible. “But if Morrigan says he’s a good man, then he must have been one. Perhaps she gave you those clothes because of your mother and I’s friendship. When we travelled together, she was a close friend of mine. She still is.”

         “Then why have I never seen you before?”

         “Because friends don’t always need to be together to stay friends. Sometimes, like your mother and I, people go their separate ways, but we’ll always stay friends, no matter what.”

         “Kieran,” said Morrigan’s voice, “you are supposed to be studying!” She came out from behind a door and stormed into the gardens, an anxious look in her yellow cat-like eyes.

         “But I wanted to meet Solona!”

         “Well, now you have met her, and you can go back to your studies,” she said, hands on her hips. “I leave you alone for five minutes…”

         “But _mother_ ,” Kieran groaned.

         Solona ruffled his hair. “I’m not going anywhere. We can talk again later.”

         “You promise?” The boy looked up at her with huge eyes, like a puppy. _Okay, maybe he_ is _Alistair’s son._

         “I promise. Go on, do as your mother says.”

         Kieran reluctantly walked away, giving her a wave before he disappeared behind the door Morrigan came through.

         The witch slumped down on the bench beside Solona, head in her hands. “I am _so sorry_ ,” she said. “I did not think he would unload so many questions on you. Such personal questions…”

         “You haven’t told him who his father is?”

         Morrigan shook her head. “No. I thought it best that we wait until he is older in order to explain things properly. But his questions are becoming more frequent and demanding.”

         Solona studied her old friend. Morrigan had changed a lot more than she originally thought. The Morrigan she knew was all hard edges and sharpness. This Morrigan was softer, more caring, more anxious. Motherhood had claimed her.

         “He has a wonderful mother, that’s more than most people can say.”

         “I am determined to keep him away from society, especially if he becomes a mage. I will not have him locked away in a tower like you were—no offence.”

         Solona shrugged. “I wouldn’t wish that on him either.” She turned to her friend as she straightened up and asked, “Where have you been all these years? I did try to find you, but…”

         “I was…in between worlds. Not in this one, and not in another. Through the Eluvians, Kieran and I lived a good life. You would not understand unless you had been there,” she added, noting Solona’s confused look at _in between worlds_. “We were safe and happy. But then we had to leave and now we are here.”

         “The world has changed a lot since you were gone.”

         “Indeed. Tell me, how is Ferelden’s King?”

         “He’s…well. He’s Alistair,” she joked, cracking a smile across Morrigan’s face. “He has his own problems, like you do, but he’s managing just fine.”

         “By leaning on you, I hear. But I suppose we have all leant on you at one point. You seem to be the world’s crutch, of whom without the world would crumble.”

         Solona nodded in agreement. “I can’t argue with that.”

         “Well, I had better return to the library to ensure that Kieran is actually reading books and has not run off to investigate the _secrets of the castle_ , as he always says.” She rose to her feet. “I hope we shall speak again soon. It seems Kieran has taken a liking to you.”

         “He’s a good boy. You should be proud of him.”

         “I am,” Morrigan said, before turning on her heels and exiting through the door she came through.

         Solona smiled to herself as she returned to her book. _Alistair would be proud of him, I think. But I’d dare not remind him about the boy. I’m sure he’d like to forget his one night with the woman he loathes._

         The sun began to set dimming the daylight she used to read the words on the page. Snapping her book shut, she rose from the chair and retreated inside Skyhold’s main hall. After the events that took place in Orlais, many more nobles decided to pay a visit to the Inquisition. Solona squeezed around them and darted into the corridor leading to Solas’ room to escape more of the same happening to her as it did in Orlais all over again.

         “Warden,” Solas greeted her, rather coldly than usual. Ever since the news from Adamant had been made public, he had made it very clear what he thought of Grey Wardens and their plan to kill the archdemons. She had avoided contact with the elf to ensure no arguments ensued, as she wholeheartedly disagreed with the slandering things he said.

         “Solas,” she said with a nod, “just passing through.” Her body automatically took the door to the right, leading outside towards Cullen’s office.

         She had not spoken to the Commander since the ball in Orlais a few days ago. He had shut himself inside his office. Only servants and his men were seen coming in and out of it. Curiosity overwhelmed Solona, and her feet moved her towards the door.

         _Perhaps he’s fine and he’s just avoiding me,_ she thought. _I did…I did kiss him._ It was a spur of the moment decision to bring him back into the present, where they were fighting for their lives. _He needed a shock, and it was the best thing I could think of_. It had been an exhilarating moment, however. Their lips touched and she felt a spark ignite between them. _It was…nice. Even if it was in the middle of a bloodbath._

         As her fingers reached out to touch the handle, a thud followed by the smashing of glass sounded against the door. She jumped back with a little cry of surprise. _What was that?_ She opened the door to find smashed glass and shards of a wooden box scattered across the floor, having left a dent in the other side of the door.

         “Cullen?” she called, cautiously entering the room.

         He was doubled over, leaning on the table for support, clutching his chest. Heaving breaths escaped him, anger flashing through his eyes.

         “Cullen?” she called again. This time he heard her. His eyes shot up to meet hers. The anger melted away on his face, quickly replaced with shame and horror.

         “S-Solona…I…I am so sorry! I…”

         She closed the door behind her, pointed her hand at the objects on the ground and used magic to push them neatly to one side before anyone could tread on them. “Whatever is the matter? What did you just throw at the door?”

         “It’s…It’s…” He sighed heavily, running a hand over his hair that was not as neatly styled today. Stubble across his jaw threatened to grow wildly, as if he had not shaved. Solona pushed him down into his chair behind the desk and perched herself on the edge. “You shouldn’t see me like this.”

         “Cullen, what in Thedas is going on with you?” she asked, concern creeping into her voice. “I’ve never seen you so…out of control.”

         He lowered his head. “I stopped taking Lyrium.”

         Solona’s eyes widened. “You…You stopped? I didn’t think that was possible. Since when?”

         “Since Haven a few months ago. I couldn’t…I couldn’t be a Templar anymore. I want nothing to do with that life. After what happened in Kirkwall…I couldn’t take it. I hated myself, was disgusted with who I was and what I had done to you. I wanted to make a name for myself outside the Order.”

         Solona’s heart ached at his confession. _He changed because of what happened._ “Clearly the lyrium isn’t happy that you’re breaking up with it,” she joked, noting how he clutched his stomach.

         “It’s not always certain what happens to a person that gives it up. Some go mad, others die.”

         “ _Die?_ ” she exclaimed.

         His brow furrowed for a moment at her concern. “It matters not. I chose to do this, and I will not take it again, even if the result is…that I do not survive.”

         Solona reached out to touch his shoulder. “No,” she said sternly, “you won’t die. You…You can’t.”

         Cullen shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”

         She leapt to her feet. “Well…no! It’s not! You can’t die! I won’t allow it!” She began pacing in front of the desk back and forth. “We have to think of something. Perhaps there’s research on Templars giving up lyrium that could give us answers and make this transition smoother for you.”

         “Why do you care?” Cullen grumbled, leaning forward onto his knees, wheezing. “I thought you hated Templars.”

         Solona stopped pacing. “I don’t _hate_ them. I dislike the extremists. Besides, you’re not a Templar anymore.” She turned to face him hesitantly, hands clasped anxiously in front of her waist. “I…I’ve come to…well I…” She cleared her throat. “I don’t…I don’t _hate_ you.”

         Cullen let slip a smile, one that surprisingly made Solona’s heart do a little flip inside her chest. “Is that your way of saying that you might actually _like_ me now?”

         She sighed. “Yes, Cullen, okay. I don’t find you intolerable anymore. There, I said it, let’s move on before we start gushing about how much we love each other and—”

         Cullen’s face turned bright pink.

         “I mean... Well, you know what I mean. Let’s—”

         “Why did you kiss me?” he asked, sitting up. “At the Winter Palace. You…You kissed me.”

         Solona spluttered. “W-Well…it was a…I had to distract you from your thoughts somehow a-and…it was the first thing that came into my head!” She folded her arms defensively across her chest, as if it could block the emotion urging to come out.

         “The first thing that came into your head was to kiss me?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching into another smile.

         “Well, I…I suppose it was.” She looked away from him, unable to look him in the eye. Her heart started to race, her own cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. _If the ground could swallow me up right now, I wouldn’t object_. “Anyway,” she said quickly, changing the subject, “I’ll get on that research I spoke about a second ago on lyrium withdrawal. Hopefully I can find something to ease your suffering.” She turned on her heels and marched out of the room, determined to get out into the fresh hair to cool her hot face.


	51. Chapter 51

_51 – Solona_

Solona leant over the war table with Josephine, Leliana, Hawke, the Inquisitor and Cullen. “Now is the time to march on Adamant,” Cullen said, moving his wooden soldier piece across the map towards the fortress.

         “Adamant Fortress has stood against the darkspawn since the time of the Second Blight,” said Leliana.

         “Fortunately for us,” said Cullen, a glint in his eye, “that means it was built before the age of modern siege equipment. A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls.”

         “You and your obsession with trebuchets, Cullen,” Leliana teased.

         “Lady Seryl of Jader was pleased to lend the Inquisition her sappers,” said Josephine, scribbling on the board in her arms as she spoke. “They’ve already delivered the trebuchets.”

         “That is the good news,” said Leliana, rather grimly.

         The Inquisitor folded her arms across her chest. “And the bad news?”

         “Erimond called the ritual at the Western Approach a _test_. He may already be raising his army of demons in the fortress.”

         “The Inquisition forces can breach the gate, but if the Wardens already have their demons…”

         Solona sighed opposite him, a pained look on her face. The idea of fighting her own order was a difficult one for her. She felt torn, knowing that it was the right thing to do, but upset that it had come to this, that she had been unable to persuade them. “I guess it’s now or never,” she muttered.

         “We have to stop them before they do anything more stupid,” Hawke said bitterly.

         Solona glared up at him. “Really? You’re starting this _again?_ ”

         “Blood magic is never the answer.”

         “I never said it was!” said Solona defensively.

         “Then why are you condoning their actions?”

         “I never condoned their actions, I simply said they’re doing it with the best intentions, not unlike your friend Merrill who uses blood magic when it pleases her.”

         “Don’t bring Merrill into this.”

         “It’s the same thing!”

         “That’s enough!” the Inquisitor cut in, silencing the two before they could lunge at each other’s throats. The two faced off against one another, hands out, fingers twitching, ready to cast a spell should the other react first. “We need you both to work _together_ , not bicker.”

         Hawke laughed humourlessly. “How can I work with a woman who _refuses_ to admit that her Order has become corrupt?”

         “It has not!” Solona shouted, squaring up to him. “My Order saved your brother, if you have forgotten! Are you telling me that your brother is corrupt too?”

         “Don’t bring Carver into this either!”

         “If it wasn’t for my Order, Ferelden would be under darkspawn control right now!”

         “So what, you defeated a Blight _ten years ago_. What have you done since?”

         Solona threw her hands up in frustration as anger built painfully in her chest. “What they’re doing is wrong, but I cannot say that they’re doing it with malicious intent. They are not the same as the blood mages that plagued Kirkwall, Hawke.”

         “Yes they are, you just can’t see it because you’re one of them!”

         Solona lunged forward, but Cullen quickly darted around the table and grabbed hold of both her arms, holding her back. “Get off me, Cullen,” she warned, struggling against them. “Let me at him!”

         “Calm yourself,” Leliana advised, but Solona saw red, fuming at her cousin shaking his head at her.

         “You’re no better than a Templar,” she spat at him. “Blaming all the Wardens for the crime that only a few committed, like how Templars accuse all mages of using blood magic! The Warden mages may have become corrupt, but the warriors and rogues do not seem affected! If you knew what they heard inside their head to drive them to their state of madness that they would find this acceptable, you’d understand.”

         “So how’d we know that _you_ won’t become one of them, since you sympathise with them so much?”

         Solona stopped struggling, blinking at him in astonishment. “You think me capable of that?” she asked, voice breaking. “You think I’d stoop to that level?”

         “You defend your colleagues so easily, what makes you any different?”

         “Because I have people around me that keep me sane! That help me ignore Corypheus’ voice in my head that keeps telling me to join him, to perform under his will. They don’t have that. All they have is each other, and a leader that has made a terrible choice.” Cullen let go of her as her body relaxed. She moved to stand beside the table, leaning back against it for support. “Hating all blood mages won’t bring your mother back, Hawke.”

         “You think I feel this way because of how my mother died?” said Hawke. “You were there in Kirkwall with me! You saw how many blood mages there were and how much suffering they caused! Now imagine an _entire army_ of them and the damage they could cause. I want to prevent anymore suffering.”

         “As do I,” she replied softly. “I do not wish anyone else to suffer the same fate as Leandra, or the citizens of Kirkwall that fell prey to blood mages. I too know what they’re capable of, as it was what caused the Circle Tower to fall to demons in Ferelden. I want to help, Hawke, not hinder you.”

         Solona looked up at Hawke as he fell silent, expecting another retort, but he said nothing, only stared at her apologetically. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ve been acting like a…”

         “Like an arse,” Solona finished for him with a cheeky smirk, one he returned.

         Hawke grinned. “Exactly.”

         “I haven’t been that nice to you either.”

         Hawke waddled over and embraced her, holding her against his armoured chest. She rested her head against his shoulder, winding her arms around his waist.

         “Aww!” the Inquisitor cut in, hands clasped beneath her chin. “You two should kiss and make up already!”

         Both Solona and Hawke’s faces wrinkled in disgust as they pulled away from one another. “We’re cousins!” they said together, and then laughed at themselves.

         “We can do this, together,” said Hawke. “No more fighting?”

         Solona smiled. “No more fighting,” she agreed, and then turned back towards the war table. “Now, let’s discuss this plan to get inside Adamant fortress and deal with this so-called servant of Corypheus…”

         They spent the day strategizing and planning, organising troops and supplies, readying themselves for battle. Solona raised her eyebrows at how skilled Cullen appeared to be at warfare. _He was Knight-Captain of Kirkwall once,_ she reminded herself. He commanded respect from his men, answering their questions and gave out orders as easily as breathing. In no time, weapons and armour were soaring out of the blacksmith’s quarters, Cullen was out in the grounds away from his office, overseeing last minute training of both veterans and recruits.

         Solona stood beside him, giving hints and tips here and there about fighting Grey Wardens. She could not give them much, as unlike Templars, mages, seekers, etc, Wardens were not given any formal training. You were joined up because you were already good at fighting, or gifted with spellcraft.

         “Wardens do not have a fighting style,” she said one afternoon beside Cullen, all eyes on the fabled Grey Warden as she stood tall on the battlements, looking down at the armoured Inquisition soldiers. “We fight for our lives most times, desperately.” Her heart wrenched at the thought of betraying her own Order like this, but it was what needed to be done. No longer could she hold back. She had to give the soldiers as much information as possible, so that they would survive. “Wardens however are extremely good fighters…against Darkspawn. They hardly fight other living beings like you and me, therefore you can use that to your advantage. Fight with skill and balance, not wildly like a Darkspawn.”

         “But you will most likely be fighting the mages,” Cullen added. “We hope that the warriors and rogues who are not completely under Corypheus’ control will be persuaded to stand down.”

         “If they do stand down, direct them _away_ from the fighting,” she continued. “We do not want to harm those who have surrendered.”

         With a nod from Cullen, Solona took the Inquisition mages to the bridge outside in the open air, away from any prying Templars and suspicious eyes that distrusted them. She taught them everything she knew about fighting with a staff, using it not only to channel magic, but as a weapon in itself. To block and stab just like a blade—just a longer and sturdier version. Standing on the very edge of the bridge, on the small wall to gain some height so all could see her, she ordered them to copy her as she demonstrated moves to block incoming weapons with her staff, and how to swing it around their bodies to create room for more spells.

         Most of the mages stared up in awe. A lot of them had come from circles, where they taught nothing about fighting with their magic and staffs. Solona had learned a lot from other Warden mages and by herself during the Blight. She encouraged and critiqued them as they copied her, slowly turning into the army of mages most chantry-men would fear.

         At the end of the next few days of training with the mages and overseeing the training of the soldiers under Cullen’s command, the Inquisitor was happy to begin the siege on Adamant.

         _Tomorrow, we march. I turn against my kin for the good of Thedas. I will help put things right._


	52. Chapter 52

_52 – Solona_

Battle cries filled the air. The trebuchets groaned as they twisted and fired large flaming rocks at the fortress, smashing into its grand walls. Solona felt every blow like a knife in the chest. She stood beside Leliana and Cullen behind the army of men marching upon the fortress, watching in awe and horror as her kin fought against them.

         “Are you alright?” Cullen asked quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

         “No,” she answered honestly. _It took years to build up the wardens in Ferelden, and it will take the same time, maybe longer, to rebuild them here in Orlais._ “But it’s what must be done.”

         The gates smashed open, the Inquisition soldiers flooded inside…and the battle begun.

         Solona whipped out her staff, ready to charge in behind the Inquisitor, but Cullen’s hand tightened on her shoulder. She looked back at him, puzzled. “What is it?”

         “Please…be careful in there,” he said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. “I know it’s difficult for you, fighting against other Wardens, but…do take care of yourself.”

         “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, shaking off his hand. She whistled to the mages sitting in wait behind the front line, ordering for them to move in. “Take care of yourself,” she shouted back to the Commander as he readied his own blade.

         It was a complete and utter bloodbath. Both Grey Warden and Inquisition corpses lay strewn across the ground, blood splattered everywhere, Solona’s boots slipping on the ground. She raised her staff and with a heavy heart shouted, “Kill every mage you can,” to the mages following her in, “but spare the warriors and rogues if possible!”

         The fortress was covered in mage wardens and their demon pets, enslaved to Corypheus. Blood splattered the stone of a once great fortress, now a sight of an unfair war that Solona was desperate to have over with. Her kin fell around her, Grey Wardens falling left right and centre. But there were a few that hesitated, catching her attention. They looked to their betters who commanded them to fight, but they clearly questioned the orders they were given. That was where Solona and the Inquisitor stepped in.

         “Lay down your weapons!” Solona would shout to every group of hesitant Wardens she came across. “We do not wish to fight you, only to stop this madness before it goes too far! Surely you can see that the mages within your ranks have been corrupted! The Inquisition only wants to stop Corypheus who is controlling them! If you surrender, you will be escorted to safety!”

         Out of blind loyalty, a few did not listen. They ignored Solona and charged towards her, having been brainwashed to believe she was a traitor. She was forced to cut them down, one by one, each death cutting at her own heart. But, some listened. They could see the truth in her eyes, the sheer desperation for them to believe her, to trust her, for them to be spared from the massacre around them that filled the air. Screams, flames, crumbling stone, and demons. To her relief, the Wardens sheathed their weapons and retraced Solona’s steps to safety, leaving the fortress with their hands up in a friendly gesture where Inquisition men waited for them.

         Solona smiled to herself. _Some can be saved after all._

        She heard a familiar celebratory cry of triumph from battlements above her, and looked up to see Hawke and the Inquisitor side by side, fighting their way through the demons and Wardens towards Warden-Commander Clarel. Hawke flared flames from his hands towards the demons in front of him, burning them alive. The Inquisitor, a nimble elf, dashed about the field of battle with her daggers flared, cutting down those in her path.

          Solona dashed towards a ladder and ascended to join them, leaving the mages under her command to fight for themselves. They had had enough training from her now to fight well, she believed. They did not need her to mother them.

         Pulling herself over the edge of the battlements, she threw a shard of ice ahead of her as a shade demon swooped down towards the Inquisitor from behind whilst she tackled a desire demon. It shot over the elf’s shoulder and impaled the demon that screeched so loudly it hurt Solona’s ears.

         “Thanks!” the Inquisitor shouted, shortly after beheading the demon she fought. “Didn’t see him back there!”

         “Where’s crazy Clarel?” Hawke asked, ducking beneath a ball of fire shot at him from a fire demon. “Hey, that was unfair!” He threw ice back at the creature, freezing it in place. “Don’t you know it’s bad manners to fight someone with their guard down? Andraste’s ass.” He threw a wave of magic towards the creature, shattering it into pieces.

         “Over there!” said the Inquisitor, pointing to a more secluded area of the fortress, seemingly untouched by the battle. The party followed the Inquisitor as she raced off ahead, towards what looked like a gathering of Wardens, all facing Clarel as she stood with a lone Warden and Magister Erimond.

         A swirling, eerie shard of green hovered in the air in the centre of them all—a rift. A few Wardens surrounded it, their hands touching it, swirling green.

         “Wardens,” Clarel began, “we are betrayed by the very world we have sworn to protect!”

          Magister Erimond stormed over. “The Inquisition is inside, Clarel. We have no time to stand on ceremony!”

         Clarel disagreed however. “These men and women are giving their lives, Magister. That might mean little in Tevinter, but for the Wardens, it is a sacred duty.” She turned her back on him and faced the lone Warden beside her, old and grey—a rare sight for the Order. “It has been many long years, my friend,” she said softly to him.

         “Too many, Clarel,” the old warden replied with a little bow. “If my sword can no longer serve the Wardens, then my blood will have to do.”

         Clarel moved to stand beside him, a blade in her hand which she brought to the tip of his throat. Regret, hesitation, and pain swam in her eyes, which she closed before bringing the blade across his neck. “It will,” she said, blood gushing down the man’s chest.

         Magister Erimond grinned, but the smile quickly dropped from his face when he saw the Inquisitor, Solona, and Hawke rush onto the scene. “Stop them!” he commanded. “We must complete the ritual!”

         The Inquisitor bravely stepped forward, despite the mass of blades pointed in her direction. Hawke and Solona followed close behind, staffs gripped tightly in their palms, just in case. “Clarel,” the Inquisitor pleaded, “if you complete that ritual, you’re doing exactly what Erimond wants!”

         Erimond smirked. “What, fighting the Blight? Keeping the world safe from darkspawn? Who wouldn’t want that?”

         But Clarel did not look to him fondly as one would in a partnership. Instead she frowned, watching both her partner and the Inquisitor with curiosity and doubt in her eyes.

         “And yes,” Erimond continued, “the ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must, but do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty!”

         Clarel stepped up beside him. “We make the sacrifices no one else will. Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them,” she said, though it sounded like she was convincing herself rather than those before her.

         Solona shook her head as rage boiled in her veins. “This is no sacrifice!” she cried. “This is murder! Your Tevinter ally binds the mages to an ancient darkspawn! Enslaving them! You’re killing our brothers and sisters to aid Corypheus!”

         Clarel froze at the name. “Corypheus? But he’s dead.”

         Erimond slid up beside her, muttering in her ear like a snake. “These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel,” he said.

         “Please, don’t do this!” Solona begged.

         Clarel covered her face with her palm, massaging her temples as she tried to think clearly on what to do. Solona looked up at her pleadingly beside the Inquisitor, hoping that what they had said would change her mind…

         Clarel’s jaw hardened. “Bring it through.” Erimond grinned.

         Mages surrounding the green rift in the air threw magic towards it, widening it. Warriors and rogues stood back, confused, as other mages stepped forward, readying themselves to protect the mages using magic on the rift behind them from the Inquisitor and those with her, forming a protective circle. For a moment there was a flicker of movement from inside the rift, whose opening widened with every second that passed. Solona gasped as she caught sight of what looked like a terrifying spider-demon the size of a castle lurking on the other side.

         “I’ve seen more than my share of blood magic,” said Hawke. “It’s never worth the cost.”

         “Please, I beg you,” said Solona, her voice cracking. “Do not make me kill any more of my own kin to stop this madness. The Order will be thrown into disrepair if you do this. All we have worked for these past centuries will be for nothing!”

         A ginormous screech erupted from the rift, making everyone flinch. “Be ready with the ritual, Clarel,” said Erimond. “This demon is truly worthy of your strength.”

         The Inquisitor closed her eyes, wracking her brain for something that could persuade them to stop, falling short, she looked to Solona.

         “You all know who I am,” said Solona, raising her voice so all could hear. “The Hero of Ferelden, Vanquisher of the Fifth Blight. I have seen the horror of a Blight upon a land. I have experienced what you fear. Darkspawn are a curse upon Thedas, but this is not the way to defeat them. Surely you can see what is wrong with this plan? A demon army, summoned with the help of a _Tevinter Magister_. He knows nothing of our struggle against the Blight! He may seem sympathetic, but we know that those who are not a part of our Order can never understand the cause we fight for. Please, see reason. We are honourable men and women with a purpose, but fighting and dying here today won’t stop the Blight. If anything it will bring us closer to one.” She pointed up at Erimond. “If you want to stop the Blight, _he_ is the one that needs to die. His master is Corypheus, a living embodiment of corruption.”

         Flickers of doubt spread through the Warden warriors and rogues. A few looked round to Clarel, curious to see what she made of Solona’s words. She herself looked doubtful, biting her lip.

         “Clarel,” said Erimond, “we have come so far. You’re the only one who can do this.”

         “P-Perhaps we could test the truth of these charges,” said Clarel, “to avoid more bloodshed.”

         Erimond sneered. “Or perhaps I should bring in a more reliable ally.” He turned to face the Inquisitor, and slammed his staff on the ground three times, red sparks shooting out of it. “My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor,” he shouted. “He sent me this to welcome you!”

         A dragon screech roared across the sky. Everyone looked up to see a corrupted, red lyrium dragon soar through the skies towards them—Corypheus’s dragon.

         Clarel backed away from Erimond, horror and realisation upon her face. She summoned purple lightning to her hands and threw it at Erimond, knocking him down. Panic struck across his face. “C-Clarel,” he begged. “w-wait…”

         But she did not listen. She threw more lightning, this time towards the dragon, now perched upon a tower above them. The Dragon roared before sending red lightning across the ground below it, and flew out of sight. Clarel fixed her eyes upon the creature and chased after it. “Help the Inquisitor,” she commanded her men before disappearing around a corner.

         “Clarel!” Solona cried, making haste after the Orlesian Warden-Commander. “Don’t go after it alone!” She pushed past the Inquisitor and up the steps, following Clarel. The Inquisitor, Hawke, and the rest of their party followed suit.

         They caught up with Clarel and Erimond in the middle of a battle. Staffs out, spells flying everywhere, bouncing off the stone walls around them. “You’ve destroyed the Grey Wardens!” Clarel cried, fury glowing from her eyes.

         Erimond laughed weakly, holding his side from a spell that had hit his chest. “You did that to yourself, you stupid bitch. All I did was dangle a little power before your eyes, and you couldn’t _wait_ to get your hands bloody!”

         Clarel snarled at him, and with one almighty roar she threw fire at him, sending him flying back into the ground, slamming hard on his back. Erimond groaned, curling up into a ball. “You could have served a new god,” he muttered.

         Clarel jutted her chin at him as she approached, holding herself tall. “I will _never_ serve the Blight.”

         An ear-splitting roar sounded from behind her at the edge of the battlements as the party finally ran onto the scene. “CLAREL!” Solona yelled to warn her, but it was too late. The lyrium dragon swooped down and scooped her up in its mouth, jaws clamped down on her body. It tossed her about and threw her aside like a toy. She lay weakly on the ground as it landed behind her, its eyes pinned upon the Inquisitor.

         The party readied their weapons as the dragon approached, death seeping from its bloody jaws. It backed them against the very edge of the battlements, where they had nowhere to go but down, off the edge. Clarel weakly crawled beneath it as it passed over her, oblivious to the fact that she was still alive. She was no longer its target. Its black eyes were pinned upon the Inquisitor, as if under instruction to kill no one else but her.

         “In war, victory…” Clarel said through a groan. “In peace, vigilance…” She pulled herself onto her back, hands covering the bloody wounds all over her torso. “In death…” She lit lightning to her hands one last time before shooting it up directly into the creature’s belly above her. It cried out in pain, roaring so loudly everyone covered their ears. The dragon tumbled and fell towards them, the stone beneath them weakening, cracking loudly, as if it were about to crumble…

         The dragon was tossed over them and off the other side of the balcony, falling down into the darkness below. A moment of silence hovered in the air as the dragon’s cries quietened until they were no more…and were replaced by the sound of loud cracks beneath their feet.

         “The ground is collapsing!” Hawke cried as a gigantic crack split between his legs. “Get to safety!”

         But they were too late. The stone crumbled and gave out beneath them, falling before they could reach stable ground. Solona, the Inquisitor, Hawke, and their party fell into the abyss below where the dragon had gone, their hearts in their mouths, the air whipping their bodies.

         _This is it. This is where I die_ , Solona thought as she tumbled through the air, awaiting impact with the ground.

         A green light caught Solona’s eye. The Inquisitor twisted in the air and thrust her palm towards the ground, where a glowing green aura awaited them. A rift opened like a tear, and the party fell into it. Then all went silent.


	53. Chapter 53

_53 – Solona_

Solona opened her eyes to a great pressure in her head. Woozy and sick, her lids fluttered open to see an eerie landscape with a familiar green aura. _The Fade._ She looked up—or down, rather—to see the Inquisitor on the ground beneath her. She stood on a rock upside down, her feet planted upon its surface as if she were the right way up. She curiously took one step, only to lose her balance and fall down onto the correct surface with a thud.

         “Is everyone alright?” Solona asked with a groan, pulling herself to her feet. “Where are we?”

         Hawke stood on a rock beside her, sticking out horizontally as if his feet were glued to it, ruffling his hair as he looked around confusedly. “We…we were falling.” Squinting his eyes to get a better look at what lay ahead of them, he added, “If this is the afterlife, the Chantry owes me an apology. This looks nothing like the Maker’s bosom.”

         The bald elf that had come with them, Solas, shook his head as he looked up at the glowing green sky. “No,” he said. “This is the Fade. The Inquisitor opened a rift. We came through…and _survived_. I never thought I would find myself here physically.” He pointed ahead of them at a dark mass with spiked towers and smoke swirling above its rooftops. “Look, the Black City. Almost close enough to touch.”

         Solona rolled her eyes at him. _He’s like a child in a sweet shop, staring at all the cakes with piggy eyes._

         “Focus, Solas,” the Inquisitor said firmly. “As much as this place fascinates you, we really can’t afford to stand around taking in the sights. We need to find a way out of here.”

         “I have never seen anything like this place,” said Solas. “I wonder what spirit commands this area…”

         “It’s not how I remember the Fade, either,” Hawke added.

         “Me neither,” Solona chipped in. The Fade had been a green, glowing place with lyrium veins growing here and there. Spiralling paths and spirits that floated about. This place was wet and cold, the black water sitting at their ankles. Rocks protruded from the ground, shiny with water. Strange glowing rocks sprouted from the ground, along with red weeds that lined the water’s edge. The air felt…wrong. It made her shiver, hugging her body with her arms. _I have visited the Fade before, and it was a place I never wanted to visit again._

         “Perhaps it’s because we’re here physically,” said Hawke, “instead of just dreaming.” He turned on his heels as he stuck out of the rock like a jagged shard, seemingly getting used to being at a strange angle to everyone else. “The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven, Inquisitor. Was it like this?”

         The Inquisitor pursed her lips in thought as she studied the area. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I still can’t remember what happened the last time I did this.”

         “Well,” said Hawke, “whatever happened at Haven, we can’t assume we’re safe now.”

         “There was a huge demon on the other side of the rift Erimond was using,” said Solona. “There could be others.” She helped Hawke down from the rock beside them—well, pulled him down, as he refused to come down on his own accord—and looked up at where Solas was staring, at the swirling green mass in the sky, just like the rift in Thedas that had opened. “In our world, the rift the demons came through was nearby. In the main hall. Can we escape the same way?”

         The Inquisitor laughed humourlessly. “It beats waiting around for demons to find us, right?” She followed Solona’s line of sight to see the swirling mass in the sky. “There. Let’s go.” And so the party followed the Inquisitor through the squelching waters that no one wanted to know what lay beneath to make that sound, towards the mass in the sky.

         As they made their way, Solas lectured them about the Fade, as well as adding in comments about how fascinating he found this place to be. Solona and Hawke shook their heads at him behind his back as he walked ahead with the Inquisitor, holding back smirks at how ridiculous he was being.

         “We’re in the middle of a demon infested part of the Fade, and he’s excited about it?” Hawke whispered. “Is he okay in the head?”

         “I think he’s spent too much time in his study,” Solona whispered back, holding back a smile.

         There were glowing, misty wraiths, fire and pride demons, and slippery paths to make their way through. Solona kept a tight grip on her staff at all times, even when not engaged in battle, just in case something decided to creep up on them. Adrenaline flooded her veins, keeping her on high alert, body jumping at the smallest of sounds.

         “Look, over there!” said Varric, looking up at the top of a steep path ahead of them. “It looks like a person!”

         The party followed him up the slippery path, holding onto one another to ensure they did not slip down to their deaths or break any bones. At the top of the steps awaiting them stood a woman in white and red robes covering her from head to toe, leaving only her pale, wrinkled face exposed beneath a giant, triangular hat.

         “By the Maker,” Solona spluttered. “Could that be…”

         “I greet you, Warden,” said the woman, “and you, Champion.”

         “Divine Justinia?” said the Inquisitor. The woman smiled as if to say ‘yes’. But the Inquisitor was not as shocked as the rest of them were, standing their gawping with open jaws. “What are you? A spirit? A demon? The real Divine couldn’t have survived Haven.”

         The woman cocked her head curiously. “Couldn’t she? How much of Haven do you truly remember? You think my survival impossible, yet here you stand alive in the Fade yourselves. In truth, proving my existence either way would require time we do not have.”

         Hawke snorted. “Really? How hard is it to answer one question? I’m a human, and you are…?”

         “I am here to help you,” the Divine answered simply, before returning to the Inquisitor. “You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor.”

         The Inquisitor frowned, crossing her arms over her chest suspiciously. “The real Divine would have no way of knowing that I’d been made Inquisitor.”

         “I know because I have examined memories like yours, stolen by the demon that serves Corypheus. It is the Nightmare you forget upon waking,” she said, looking up at the sky. “It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror. The false Calling that terrified that Wardens into making such grave mistakes? Its work.”

         Solona gulped. _What I’m hearing in my head is due to a demon?_ She clenched her jaw shut, hands curling into fists at her sides. “I would gladly avenge the insult this Nightmare dealt my brethren,” she growled. “Make it pay for what it has done to me and all my kin.”

         “You will have your chance, brave Warden,” the Divine assured her. “This place of darkness is its lair.”

         “How do we hurt it?” the Inquisitor asked.

         “That’s a little… _optimistic_ , isn’t it?” said Hawke.

         “You hurt it by escaping the Fade and leading your people against Corypheus,” said the Divine.

         “That’s not what I meant.”

         “I know, but for now it is the best answer I can give you.” She looked to the Inquisitor seriously, like a teacher lecturing a child. “When you entered the Fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you. Before you do anything else, you must recover it.” She waved her hand, and glowing green balls appeared beside her. “These are your memories, Inquisitor.”

         The Inquisitor approached each one, the anchor on her hand glowing as she neared, revealing secrets within.

         _“What’s going on here?”_

         _“Bring forth the sacrifice.”_

         _“Run while you can! Warn them!”_

         As the Inquisitor touched the last piece of the puzzle, it exploded, revealing a scene before them. The Divine floated above the ground in a room, flailed with her arms out, her face tense with fear and pain. A red aura floated around her, keeping her in the air. Solona’s eyes followed the glow to a hand from which it came…a Grey Warden hand. Her eyes widened in disbelief and horror as a group of Grey Wardens surrounded the Divine, holding her in place.

         _“Now is the hour of our victory_ ,” said a familiar voice, one dark and mysterious that everyone had heard many times. Corypheus.

         _“Why are you doing this?”_ asked the Divine, eyes flicking to each Warden in turn. _“You of all people?”_

         Corypheus approached, a glowing green orb in his hand. _“Keep the sacrifice still_ ,” he ordered. Bringing the orb forward he thrust it towards the Divine, its green glow engulfing her.

         _“Someone help me!”_ she begged, but no one responded. The Grey Wardens watched with blank expressions, and Corypheus grinned.

         The doors to the left of the room opened, and the Inquisitor burst through. _“What’s going on here?_ ” she demanded. Corypheus, startled, looked towards the intruder. The Divine snatched the moment of distraction and hit the ball out of the magister’s hand, sending it skidding across the floor towards the Inquisitor. She picked it up with her hand, and screamed as soon as the orb touched her palm. A rift burst forth from her palm, blinding everyone…

         Solona felt as though all the air had been squeezed out of her lungs, struggling to breath. She took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut, as if she could forget what she had just seen. Her Order had caused all this. They had aided corypheus to open the breach. They had hurt the Divine. They had been manipulated long before the breach even opened. _This is all our fault…_

         She cleared her throat, steeling herself. “So, your mark didn’t come from Andraste, Inquisitor,” she said calmly. “It came from the orb Corypheus used in his ritual.”

         The Divine standing nearby nodded. “Corypheus intended to rip open the Veil, use the Anchor to enter the Fade, and throw open the doors of the Black City. Not for the Old Gods, but for himself. When you disrupted his plan, Inquisitor, the orb bestowed the Anchor upon you instead.”

         The Inquisitor stood silently, staring at the palm of her hand where the Anchor occasionally flickered. “I never truly thought Andraste did this,” she said quietly. “I did this myself, through my actions. No Maker required.”

         “And now you may be certain. You cannot escape the lair of the Nightmare until you regain all that it took from you. You have recovered some of yourself, but now it knows you are here. You must make haste. I will prepare the way ahead.” The Inquisitor nodded, allowing the Divine to wander ahead by herself.

         Hawke looked down at his feet, lips pursed, head shaking slightly. “Something the matter, Hawke?” asked Solona.

         “I wondered if you might be concerned about the Grey Wardens holding the Divine in that vision. Their actions led to her death.”

         Solona nodded solemly. “I assume he had taken their minds, as you’ve seen him do before…” She stopped before tensions could rise between them. Hawke’s brow was knotting in anger already. “We can argue about this after we escape this place.”

         “Deal,” Hawke agreed, putting the matter aside.

         The party followed the Divine across more of the Fade, through wet grounds and sharp hills until they reached another clearing. She waved her hand and more green orbs appeared. The Inquisitor touched them one by one again.

         _“The demons!”_

         _“Keep running!”_

         _“Ahhh!”_

         Everyone was blinded by the last piece of the memory once again, and a scene unfolded before them. The Inquisitor clambered up an almost vertical slope, demonic, giant spiders on her tail. At the top stood the Divine, holding her hand out, encouraging her to move faster before the demons could reach her. They were already snapping at her heels. One wrong move and the Inquisitor would be no more.

         Behind the Divine was a rift. _The Breach,_ Solona realised. _Where the Inquisitor escaped._

         The Inquisitor finally hauled herself over the edge, the Divine helping her to her feet.

         _“The demons!”_

         _“Keep running!”_ the Inquisitor urged, and then skidded to a halt at the sound of a terrified scream. She looked back to see the Divine in the hands of the spiders, ripping her robes as she struggled to get away. The Inquisitor reached out to grab her, but they were too far apart.

         Something switched in the Divine’s mind, her body relaxing, fear no longer consuming her. “ _Go_ ,” she insisted, and then let go of the rock, allowing the creatures to have her. The Inquisitor had no choice but to run through the rift…

         The Inquisitor looked up at the Divine sadly. “It was you,” she said softly. The Divine watched her expectantly. “They thought it was Andraste sending me from the Fade, but it was the Divine behind me. And then you… _she died_.”

         The Divine bowed her head. “Yes.”

         “So this is simply a spirit,” said Solona.

         “I am sorry if I disappoint you,” said the Divine. She stepped back, her arms widening as a bright orange glow consumed her. It covered her from head to toe, lifting her into the air.

         “Are you…her?” asked the Inquisitor. “Did you linger here to help me, instead of passing on?”

         “If that is the story you wish to tell, it is not a bad one.”

         “What we do know,” said Hawke, nose wrinkled in disgust, “is that the Mortal Divine perished at the temple, thanks to the Grey Wardens.”

         Solona sighed. “Not this again,” she groaned, feeling his eyes upon her. “The Grey Wardens responsible were under the control of Corypheus. We can discuss this _later_ when we return to Adamant Fortress.”

         “Assuming the Wardens and their demon army didn’t destroy the Inquisition while we were gone,” Hawke snapped.

         Solona barked, “How dare you judge us! You tore Kirkwall apart and started the mage rebellion!”

         “To protect innocent mages, not madmen drunk on blood magic! But you’d ignore that, because you can’t imagine a world without the Wardens… even if that’s what we need!”

         “Agreed,” Solas chipped in. “The Wardens may once have served a greater good, but they are far too dangerous now.”

         Solona whirled round to glare at him. “Shut it, Elf,” she warned. “You know not of what you speak.” She turned back to Hawke. “I’m sure your brother would love to hear how you feel about the Order he’s a part of…thanks to _you_. Everyone makes mistakes. They put their lives on the line because they thought they were protecting the world, not condemning it.”

         Solona glared up at Hawke, and he glared down at her, both eyes locked upon one another in an angry face off. _How dare he say those things about my Order! How dare they all!_ “If we disappear, who will protect the world from Blights, hmm? Who knows how to kill darkspawn and archdemons apart from us? Who are willing to die without credit for people like _you_ ,” she turned her glare to Solas, “who insult us? Certainly not your Templars, Circle Mages, or the Chantry.”

         The Inquisitor jumped in between the two. “Could the both of you please shut up! We can argue once we’ve escaped from the giant fear demon!”

         “Inquisitor!” Solona shouted, spotting movement behind them. Hundreds of spider demons climbed down from the walls and holes in the ground, and began swarming towards them.

         “The Nightmare has found us,” said the Divine, floating in the air above them.

         Solona and Hawke looked to one another. “Resume this later?” he asked.

         “Later,” she agreed, whipping out her staff. “Form up!”

         “I’m with you,” he replied, twirling his own staff.

         They fought their way through the demons to where the Divine was guiding them, sending spiders flying into rocks, splitting their limbs from their bodies, setting them alight wherever possible.

         “We’re almost there!” Solas shouted, noting how the swirling green breach in the sky grew closer and closer with every step. The party skidded to a halt however, bringing their anticipation about leaving to an abrupt end. Before them stood a tall creature that hovered above the ground, with six arms, ten tentacles and twice as many eyes. But behind that was the most fearsome thing of all: The Nightmare itself. A humungous spider demon that Solona had seen in the rift Erimond had been using. It was as tall as a chantry building, towering over them all with large legs that could crush them into paste if they were caught beneath one.

         The Divine—or the spirit—asked the Inquisitor to tell Leliana, “I am sorry, I failed you too,” before she flew towards the spider demons, distracting it as the smaller demon rushed towards the party.

         They fought hordes of demons that seemed endless, until eventually they reached the tentacle demon. The Inquisitor used her daggers to behead it, sending the creature tumbling away.

         “We did it!” Solona cheered, breathing a sigh of relief as she wiped demon ichor from her staff. “The rift is over there. Let’s hurry through it!”

         Solas and Varric rushed ahead towards the rift, leaving Solona, the Inquisitor, and Hawke to trail behind. But the Nightmare refused to be defeated so easily. It charged between the groups, blocking their path to the rift. Hawke grabbed hold of Solona and yanked her back just in time as a giant leg slammed into the ground before them. She looked back at him gratefully before returning her gaze to the horrific creature before them.

         _It won’t let us pass,_ she realised. “We need to clear a path!”

         “Go,” said Hawke, “I’ll cover you.”

         Solona shook her head. “No. You were right,” she said. “The Grey Wardens caused this. A Warden must—”

         “A Warden must help them rebuild! That’s _your_ job!” He looked up at the Nightmare, a gleam of determination in his eye. “Corypheus is _mine_.”

         They looked to the Inquisitor to decide between them, to agree who was right. She startled at the idea of choosing one over the other, but in the end, she looked to Hawke.

         “Right,” said Hawke, rolling his shoulders in anticipation. “Say goodbye to Varric for me,” he asked.

         “Hawke, no!” Solona jumped in front of him. “Let _me_! Let me stay here and—”

         Hawke placed his hands on Solona’s shoulders to silence her, looking her dead in the eyes. “It was nice knowing you, cousin. I trust you will rebuild the Grey Wardens into something great.”

         Solona shook her head, refusing to allow this decision. “No, Hawke don’t do this. I won’t allow it, I can’t!” Her fingers gripped onto his armour, unable to let him go.

         Hawke turned on his heels and darted towards the Nightmare, staff alight with flames. Solona released a hair-raising scream, moving to follow him, but the Inquisitor grabbed her arm.

         “Don’t let his sacrifice be in vain!” she said, and pulled Solona along to the rift as the creature turned its attention to Hawke, allowing them to follow the others into their world.


	54. Chapter 54

_54 – Cullen_

Cullen and the Inquisition soldiers had reached the battlements where the Inquisitor and her party had fought Erimond and Clarel. His soldiers surrounded the Wardens and the rift they stood around, daring them to make a move.

         Cullen could not stop his hands from fidgeting over the hilt of his sheathed blade, stained with blood and demon ichor. To his left, part of the fortress had crumbled away, and the Inquisitor and her party were nowhere to be seen. Witnesses had said that they had fallen into a bright green light as the stone crumbled out from beneath them.

         _Maker, let them be okay. Let Solona be okay._

         All eyes locked upon the rift as it crackled and hissed, opening wider until it was large enough for a man to come through. “Ready yourselves for trouble!” Cullen commanded, unsheathing his blade. “We do not know what could come through.”

         But all tension was sapped from the area as Varric and Solas tumbled out of it, soaking wet and covered in black ichor. Cullen blinked, confused. _What are they doing in the rift? But that leads to the Fade…_

         A few minutes later, the Inquisitor, and to Cullen’s relief, Solona jumped out of it. The Inquisitor whirled round and thrust her anchor towards the rift, sealing it behind her.

         “Stand down!” Cullen commanded. “Inquisitor, did you just…”

         “Step out of the Fade again? Yes,” she replied, running a hand through her hair to smooth it out.

         The crowd of Inquisition soldiers and Wardens who had surrendered cheered at the Inquisitor’s success. Cullen looked down at Solona, who sat on her knees on the ground staring blankly at the floor, head shaking slightly—the only person not smiling.

         “Where’s Hawke?” Varric asked, looking to the Inquisitor. No one answered. “Where is he?”

         Solona’s voice, cracked and broken, answered, “Gone.” Her shoulders sunk, her head hanging shamefully. “He’s not coming back.”

         Varric’s jaw tightened, body stiffening at the news, but like Solona, he said nothing else. His eyes looked to the Inquisitor, a look of hurt on his face.

         “Without the Nighmare to control them,” said Solas, “the Warden mages are free, and Corypheus loses his demon army.”

         Cullen sheathed his blade once more and stepped forward. “Inquisitor, the Archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared. The Venatori magister is unconscious but alive. I thought you might wish to deal with him yourself.”

         “Very good, Cullen,” the Inquisitor praised.

         “As for the Wardens,” he continued, “those who weren’t corrupted helped fight the demons.”

         A more senior-looking Warden with intricate armour blazoned with a griffon stepped forward, arm across his chest. “We stand ready to help make up for Clarel’s…tragic mistake.”

         “We’ve seen no sign of Hawke since the ledge collapsed, Inquisitor,” said Cullen. His eyes flicked down to Solona as she stifled a sob. Varric helped her to her feet, the pair of them leaning on one another. “We assumed he was with you.”

         The Inquisitor replied, “Hawke sacrificed his life to save us, and strike a decisive blow against Corypheus. He gave his life, not because he’d sworn an oath or been marked as special, but because someone had to do it.

         “Warden-Commander Solona,” said the Warden. “You’re the most senior surviving Warden. What do we do now?”

         Solona straightened herself, standing tall, shoulders tense, her eyes swimming with sorrow. “It is not up to me,” she said, voice barely a whisper. Instead she looked to the Inquisitor.

         “You stay and do whatever you can to help,” she answered. “Solona believes that the Wardens are worth saving, and I trust her.” Solona gave her a grateful nod. “You’re still vulnerable to Corypheus, and possibly his Venatori, but there are plenty of demons that need killing.”

         “I will send a raven to the Wardens at Weishaupt to let them know what happened,” she replied, voice dead of emotion. “We will not be caught off guard by Corypheus again.”

         “Thank you, your Worship,” said the Warden. “We will not fail you.”

***

Skyhold had become a busy place, filled with hundreds of allies. Orlesian and Ferelden nobles, Grey Wardens, Elves both City and Dalish, common folk from around Thedas, Qunari, even Dwarves. It was hard to move around without bumping into one ally or another. All Cullen wanted to do was reach the war room to inform the other advisors and the Inquisitor on the progress they had made since they had returned from Adamant a few days ago, but he was blocked by the sheer mass of people wanting to speak with him, for business and personal reasons. In the end he gave up, retreating to his office.

         He had to go the long way around to his office to avoid everyone, past the bedrooms where companions and allies stayed. One room in particular caught his eye. Smoke creeped out from the gap between the door and the ground. A loud crash from within made him jump. He was sure that was Solona’s room, but why would smoke be coming from inside?

         He had not seen the Warden-Commander since they had returned from Adamant Fortress. She had been stoic and silent during the journey home. Whenever he tried to speak with her, she refused to even look at him. _Something is wrong._

         He pushed open the door to a surge of smoke escaping the room. He coughed and spluttered, waving his hand to clear the smoke as he wandered inside. Several pieces of furniture had been set alight, flames roaring, licking the walls and floor. Solona sat in a heap beside her bed, sobbing uncontrollably, curled up into a ball. Items lay smashed about the room, pieces of vases, chairs, and pictures scattered here and there. Cullen tapped into his Templar abilities that he still possessed and cleared the room of all magical fire. They went out like a candle. Cullen opened the windows to allow the smoke to escape, clearing the room a little as he continued to cough wildly.

         “S-Solona?” he asked. “Solona, what happened in here? Are you all right?”

         Solona did not answer. She sat sobbing still on the floor, arms wrapped around her body. Her teeth bared, she squeezed her eyes shut, wailing with pain.

         “It…should’ve…been me!” she cried between ragged breaths. “It should’ve…been… _me_!”

         Cullen approached her cautiously, kneeling down beside her. He had never seen her so _frail_ before. She had always been strong and fearless, but here she was as small as a child, her body shaking with grief. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “What do you mean? Talk to me.”

         She shook her head, running her hands through her hair to smooth it away from her wet face covered in tears that had streaked down her cheeks. “It should’ve been _me_ that died! I’ve escaped death one too many times… Hawke didn’t need to be the one to stay behind! It should’ve been _me_!” She unleashed a wail, and the fires around the room lit themselves again. Cullen quickly extinguished them with a wave of his hand. It sent a jolt of fatigue through him, as the amount of lyrium in his veins was severely depleted after he had stopped taking it, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it.

         Instinctively, he pulled Solona into his arms, cradling her close to his chest. “I’m sorry about Hawke,” he said, resting his chin on the top of her head. “He was a good man.”

         “He was the only family I had left,” she whined. “It should’ve been me. I’m dying anyway!”

         Cullen paused. “What do you mean?” he asked, failing to hide the concern in his voice.

         “Wardens die from the Blight within them eventually. Hawke could’ve lived until he grew old and grey. I’ll never make it past forty. He could have lived a long and happy life if I’d just stayed behind without announcing it, if I’d done it before he could…”

          _She’s dying?_ The grip he had on her slipped for a moment. He couldn’t imagine a world where the fabled Hero of Ferelden was not in it. Where Solona Amell was dead. It was not something he wanted to think about. His chest suddenly tightened at the thought.

         “I have no one now,” she whimpered, rubbing her reddened eyes free of tears. “I’m alone.”

         Cullen tightened his embrace. “You have me. I’m here for you.”

         Solona said nothing for a moment, sending a wave of panic through Cullen as he thought immediately that he’d said something wrong, but then she rested her head against his chest, warmth surging through him. “Thank you,” she said, her voice small.

         He continued to hold her in his arms, eventually feeling brave enough to stroke her hair, pulling loose strands away from her face. Her breathing slowed until it was calm and even. He tensed as he felt her arms wrap themselves around his waist, fully embracing his hug. Warmth spread from his fingers to his toes, and Cullen closed his eyes, wishing this moment would never end.

         Solona slipped out from his arms and got to her feet. “I suppose I’d better take charge of the Wardens,” she said, her voice strong again. She tidied her hair, pulling it back into a sleek ponytail and splashed some water on her face from a bowl in the corner of the room on a piece of furniture that had not become blackened with fire. “Sorry about the mess, I suppose I’ll have to compensate the ambassador for the damage.”

         “No need,” Cullen assured her. “I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”

         Solona smiled at him. The expression mirrored on his own face. “Thank you, Cullen. I…I needed that.”

         “No problem at all, always happy to…comfort you if need me.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I mean…if you need advice or…not that you would need advice from me…but I…well…”

         “I know what you meant,” Solona said with a chuckle. “Talk to you later, Cullen.” She walked out of the room, holding herself higher than Cullen had seen her in the past few days, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. He continued to smile after her, happy that he had done something that made her feel better rather than hurt her for once.


	55. Chapter 55

_55 – Solona_

Solona sat with Varric in the throne room by the fire where he always was, watching him write letters to Hawke’s closest friends. Varric had written most of them already, to Fenris, Isabela, Merrill, Aveline, Sebastian, Anders, and Gamlen, but his pen hovered over the parchment for his last letter: to Hawke’s little brother Carver.

         “Shit, I can’t do this anymore,” said the dwarf, laying down the quill. “There’s only so many times I can take writing ‘Hawke died’.”

         “I’ll do it,” Solona offered, sliding the quill and parchment across the table towards her. He had spared her the pain of writing what happened at Adamant Fortress to the Wardens in Weisshaupt. “Go and get some sleep,” she said, noting the dark circles beneath his eyes. “You look like you need it.”

         “Thanks,” he said dryly, but all the same he got up and left the table towards his room.

         Solona dipped the quill in the inkwell beside her, pausing for a moment before starting the difficult letter to Carver.

 

**_Carver,_ **

**_I hope you are well. I trust that you and Nathaniel are as far away from Southern Thedas as possible. The Grey Wardens in Orlais have done things that will set our Order back for centuries, but I am sure you will hear the news soon enough on your own without me telling you._ **

**_I write to you to inform you that your brother, Garrett, is no longer with us. He bravely sacrificed himself so the Inquisition could strike a significant blow against Corypheus._ **

**_I apologise for being the bearer of bad news. All of us here are grieving for him. Stay strong, and please let me know if I can do anything for you during this difficult time._ **

**_Regards,_ **

**_Warden-Commander Solona Amell_ **

 

         It was easier than she thought to write the letter, having accepted the reality of her cousin’s death rather than deny it. She still blamed herself for what had happened, still assured that if she had acted quicker she could have saved Hawke’s life. She would have put that in the letter, but she knew Varric would be checking it later and would rewrite it without that part in it.

         _“It’s not your fault_ ,” Varric had told her. _“It’s his fault. Hawke is—was a stubborn man. He wouldn’t have let you go even if you had rushed ahead and tried to sacrifice yourself instead. He was too honourable for that. He’d have stopped you either way._ ”

         Solona had been forced to agree with him. She could see Hawke’s infuriating smirk if she closed her eyes, and imagined him saying ‘not so fast, hero,’ before yanking her back to safety and jumping into danger himself.

         “Oh, Hawke,” she whispered quietly. “I miss you already.”

         The past few days after Adamant had been difficult. It had taken everything within her to keep her emotions in check whilst out in public on the way back to Skyhold. People had spoken with her, asking how she was and inquiring after her commands. She answered curtly and as blunt as possible, for fear of breaking down her walls that kept her emotions back, like a dam.

         As soon as she had returned to her room, she locked the door and broke down, allowing grief, anger, and sorrow to consume her. She unleashed her feelings in a magical rage, cursing Andraste for taking Hawke away from the world, for allowing her to live when she had already escaped death too many times. She had allowed Morrigan to perform the ritual with Alistair so that both could live where she should have died. In Kirkwall she could have been made tranquil, or died in the battle, but she lived still. And now, she had walked physically in the Fade, a feat thought previously to be impossible and deadly, and she _still_ lived.

         But she had accepted it now. She knew that Hawke would not want her to wallow in self-pity. In fact, if he could haunt her, he would probably scold her for moping about wishing death upon herself. _Get up and get on with living! I can’t so you must,_ he would have said.

         A sudden warmth filled her chest as she remembered who had helped her in her room. Cullen had embraced her, holding her close even as she cried like a child. He saw her at her weakest and yet did not flinch or turn away. Instead he stayed and helped her. She smiled at the memory. _I never thanked him properly for that…I really should_. She got up from the table, handed the letter she had written to a servant and asked them to take it to Varric, before leaving the room for Cullen’s quarters.

         She passed through Solas’ room, ignoring the urge to sneer at the man who insulted Grey Wardens, and walked across the battlements towards Cullen’s quarters. But on the way, a strange feeling crept along her skin, making the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand on end. Tiny flecks of blood stained the stones on the ground leading up to the door. No scouts patrolled the area as they normally did. _Something’s wrong._ She dashed across the battlements and burst open the door.

         What she found inside made her eyes widen in shock. Around the room lay dead Inquisition scouts. Cullen sat tied to a chair, one eye blackening, several cuts over his face. Beside him stood a man Solona had seen once or twice around Kirkwall at night when travelling with Hawke a few years ago but had never paid any mind to. A blade was in his hand, slowly nearing Cullen’s throat.

         “Tell me, Knight-Captain, I won’t ask again. Where is—” Sampson paused. “Ah, Hero of Ferelden, I must admit I did not expect you here.” He placed the blade down on Cullen’s desk and faced Solona, a smirk on his face.

         “Solona!” Cullen cried in warning.

         The door suddenly slammed closed behind her, as if by an invisible force. She jumped away from it, but her attention quickly returned to Cullen. “What are you doing to him?” she demanded, fingers twitching by her sides, ready to unsheathe her staff. “How did you get in here?”

         “With red lyrium on my side, the impossible is made possible,” Sampson said vaguely, his smirk never wavering. “I just wanted some information from your Commander.” He returned to Cullen, picking up the blade again. “But he is unwilling to provide me with it.” Cullen stiffened in anticipation.

         “Leave him alone,” Solona warned, taking a few steps closer to him. “Touch him again and I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever do.”

         Sampson chortled, slapping the desk in amusement. “You cannot tell me that you want to _protect_ this Templar?”

         “Ex _-_ Templar,” Solona corrected him.

         “No matter, he still fears you. Fears all mages.” He walked around the desk leaning back against it with his arms crossed, blade still in hand. “Why would you want to protect this man when he hurt you. You were almost made tranquil because of him if I remember rightly, back in Kirkwall. It’s as good as killing you. I would know, I helped smuggle many mages out of Kirkwall to escape that fate.”

         Solona swallowed. _He’s right_. Cullen had hurt her more than any person in her life. He had betrayed her, tried to kill her, aided in having tranquillity almost forced upon her. He had done terrible things… “That may be so, but he’s trying to change, and that’s what matters.” She whipped out her staff, twirling it around her body. “Move away from him, or I’ll make you.”

         Sampson snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

         “Solona, don’t!” Cullen cried.

         She whipped her staff at him commanding fire to burn him where he stood…but nothing happened. She tried again. Not even a spark erupted from the tip. “What the—” All the magic had been sapped out of the room. Sampson appeared to still have Templar abilities.

         Sampson raised his eyebrows in triumph. “Looks like you won’t be making me do anything.”

         “I don’t need magic to stop you,” she said, more confidently than she felt inside. Without her magic, fear trickled through her veins instead. _I’m powerless!_ But she still had combat skills under her belt, thanks to the Grey Wardens. She held her staff out like a baton, ready to strike him with it. “You can take my magic away, but you won’t take away my wish to kill you.”

         Sampson shook his head, and in one swift movement launched himself over the table towards her. She blocked his blade as he swung it towards her throat, hitting it away with her staff. He struck at her again, his blade whizzing past her face as she jerked backwards just in time before it could cut off her nose. She danced and ducked out of the way of his blade, using her staff to keep him back.

         She struck out at him this time, her staff whacking him back from her as he attempted a tackle. She twirled it around her body and sent it into his stomach. He stumbled backwards, giving her the chance to prepare another blow. She twirled her staff again, ready to hit him, but he recovered quicker than she anticipated. He sent his shoulder into her stomach and slammed her into the bookcase behind them. She yelped as the wind was knocked out of her, a pain jolting up her back. Sampson grabbed her by the hair and threw her across the room. She skidded across the stone floor and into another bookcase, books falling from their shelves around her.

         “Just give up, Hero,” Sampson taunted, arms out by his sides. “Without your magic, you’re nothing!”

         Solona gritted her teeth and shot to her feet. She sent her staff into his temple, stunning him for a moment, and a moment was all she needed. She kicked him hard between the legs and shoved him back into Cullen’s desk. The Commander watched with wide eyes, flicking between Solona and Sampson, struggling with his bindings. Resisting the urge to help him, she turned back to Sampson just in time as he struck out at her legs. She hissed as the blade cut her shins, but the wound was small. Sampson leapt up and tackled her to the floor. His blade dug into her side, threatening to pierce her shirt and cut her stomach open. She pushed against him with all her might, screaming with effort, but he was a heavy man, pinning her to the floor.

         “You should’ve joined us, Warden,” said Sampson. “The Calling was easy enough to fall for. You should’ve have become a slave to my master. He would have loved someone as talented as you on his side.”

         “Never,” she grunted, slamming her knee into his stomach. He rolled off her with a grunt of pain and she leapt to her feet, grabbing her abandoned staff from the floor and pointed it at him, the sharp end near his throat, keeping him where he lay on his back staring up at her. “I don’t side with evil.”

         Sampson kicked up at her staff, knocking it out of her hands. He twisted, rolling to his feet and launched himself at her once again. His hand clasped around her throat. Her eyes bulged as he stopped her breathing, hands clutching at his fingers. “Shame,” said Sampson, backing away. He released her, but an invisible force kept choking her still, her throat glowing red like tainted lyrium. She crumbled to her knees before him, gasping desperately, little black spots appearing in her vision. “You’ll die like the rest of them.”

         Cullen twisted and wiggled in his restraints. Solona thought she heard him cry out to her, but her vision began to blur. She crawled towards her staff, but without air to breathe she became so weak, her fingers missing the staff each time she reached for it. Sampson kicked it away, smirking as she collapsed to the floor. “Look at me when you die, Solona Amell,” he purred. “Corypheus will thank me for killing you, the woman who took his Wardens away.”

         Her heart raced frantically in her chest, her body jerking, desperate to breathe. The corners of her vision blackened, darkness threatening to swallow her whole. She fought against the invisible force choking her as best she could, but it was a magic she had never felt before. One that burned her skin.

         “Sampson, stop, _please_!” Cullen begged, his voice distant, pushing against his restraints.

         Sampson turned to him and smiled. “You’ll watch as I kill her, Commander. I’ll do the job you failed.”

         With his back turned, Solona used the last of her energy to kick out at his legs. He stumbled, accidentally releasing the spell. She coughed and spluttered as she breathed once again, her lungs thankful for the air. Dragging herself to her feet, she scooped up her staff and sent the blade on the end into the back of his leg. Sampson cried out, falling to his knees. Solona pulled out the staff, ready to send it into his back, but with a wave of Sampson’s hand, a red glow engulfed him, and he was gone.

         Solona fell to the floor on her hands and knees, breathing heavy, regaining the air she had lost. Her brain was fuzzy, her lungs burning. Her body throbbed and jolted with pain as she pulled herself to her feet, the adrenaline from the fight slowly melting away now that it was over.

         “Solona…Solona, are you alright?” Cullen asked from his chair, still struggling from the bindings.

         She stumbled over to him, crying out as she fell into the sharp corner of his desk, her legs wobbling like jelly beneath her. She grasped onto Cullen to steady herself and removed his restraints, untying him. He was on his feet at once, his arms closing around Solona as she groaned, holding her body with her arms as it felt as though it was going to fall apart. The last time she had felt this bad, she had taken a beating from an ogre in the Deep Roads.

         She looked up at him, his face a painting of bruises and blood. “Oh, Cullen, what did he do to you?”

         Cullen spluttered. “What did he do to _me?_ Look what he did to _you_!” He sat her down on the edge of his desk as her legs threatened to give way beneath her, the adrenaline from the fight having left her completely. She felt woozy. Cullen was blurring in and out of focus. “Oh, Maker… Why did you do that? You should have…”

         “I couldn’t…I-I… He was hurting you,” she whimpered, touching her neck. It burned beneath her touch, as if it were red and raw. “I… I had to stop him.” Her fingers found their way onto his armour, clutching at his cloak. He held her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other on her waist.

         “He could have killed you,” Cullen muttered. “You almost…” He planted a kiss on the top of her head, sending an unfamiliar warmth through her body. She fell against him, her breathing ragged, skin burning and throbbing. “I feared I would lose you.”

         Solona, despite the pain she felt, chuckled. “I’m n-not going anywhere…just y-yet.”

         “Let’s get you some help,” he said, scooping her off the desk and into his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of metal and blood, a small trickle of it falling down his chin.


	56. Chapter 56

_56 – Solona_

Skyhold was immediately put on high alert. Soldier patrols became more frequent, and guards were arranged for important members. Sampson did what they thought to be impossible, but the stronghold was not impenetrable. It could keep large armies at bay, but individual soldiers like Sampson? It was possible that they could infiltrate the grounds, as he had done, and so everyone was now wary, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious within their own walls.

         Solona had missed most of this, however, forced into bed rest for several days as Morrigan healed her wounds and ordered she stay there until she released her.

         “Morrigan, I’m _fine_ ,” Solona grumbled, pulling the bed sheets up over her body to shield herself from the witch’s hands.

         Morrigan whipped the blanket away with a flick of her hand. “You still have more healing to do. You took a nasty beating.”

         “You should rest,” said Leliana, standing by the door. “Recover your strength.”

         Solona pursed her lips. “Don’t you take her side,” she said. She had been itching to leave the bed the moment she entered the sheets. It did not do her well to sit still and do nothing.

         “As much as I dislike the _Nightingale,_ ” Morrigan said wryly, “she is right.”

         Leliana smirked. “You can do better than that,” she teased. “Where are your witty insults? You’ve become so soft as a mother.”

         “Ugh.” Morrigan rolled her eyes. “I have not become _soft_.”

         “You have!” said Leliana through a giggle. “She has not insulted my love of Orlesian shoes _once_ since arriving in Skyhold!”

         Solona bit back a smirk of her own. “She’s not wrong.”

         Morrigan huffed. “I’ll come back when you decide to grow up.” She scooped up her bag and stormed off, leaving Solona and Leliana giggling.

         Leliana brought over her blanket and placed it over her old friend. “I will return later as well. I have important matters to attend to. Finding out how Sampson got inside our walls without us noticing has been challenging.”

         Solona nodded, granting her permission to leave. She lay back as the door closed behind the ex-bard, staring up at the ceiling. There were a few holes here and there in the boards above that needed patching up, filtering through sunlight. Specs of dust hovered in the columns of light that hit the floor around her bed. She reached out to touch one beside her, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin. She hissed when a pain jolted up her arm, retracting it back beneath the covers. Her body still ached from the fight with Sampson. Bruises dotted her body, along with a few cuts that would form new scars among the forest of older scars she possessed. _Why is it always me that finds myself in so much trouble?_ she wondered.

         Out of sheer boredom, she closed her eyes, allowing her body to succumb to the exhaustion that she had tried to deny. She slipped into a dose, before there was a knock at the door that jolted her awake. She rubbed her eyes and said, “Come in,” to whoever was on the other side.

         Cullen slipped inside, holding something steaming in his hands. “I brought you something,” he said, closing the door behind him. He approached her bedside and handed her a cup. Her hands automatically closed around the warmth. “It’s tea.” He took a seat on the edge of the bed by her legs. “It helps me when I feel rough. I thought you might benefit from it.”

         Solona took a sip, and smiled as the warmth sent a little shiver through her. It tasted of earth and mint—strange but not awful. It soothed her body, relaxing her muscles. “Thank you.”

         She looked up at him to see he was not looking at her. She was not even sure he had heard her speak as he stared at a wall. Beneath his eyes were dark circles, his hair even messier than usual. His stubble had grown out a little and he hunched over slightly. She placed a hand on his knee, bringing him out of his mind. “You okay?” she asked.

         Cullen shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said dismissively. “How are you? Are you recovering well? I haven’t had the chance to speak with Morrigan since—”

         “I’m okay,” she assured him, placing the cup of tea on the bedside table beside her. “Almost healed. You on the other hand look _awful_.” She reached up and pushed a lock of blond hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear. “Is it the lyrium?”

         Cullen nodded. “It’s getting harder with each day not to beg someone to get me some. I often avoid the Templars now in case I become tempted to ask for their supply.” He sighed, smoothing down his hair. “I am afraid of what comes next.”

         Solona tilted her head to one side. “What comes next?”

         “I have nightmares every night, more frightening as time goes on. My body _hurts_ , I cannot think straight… Sometimes I feel like ripping my skin off, and other times I feel so tired that I just want to curl up into a ball and sleep for a thousand years.”

         Solona felt a surge of affection and sympathy as she watched the Commander, clearly in pain. One of his hands was in a fist at his side, the other tapping on his knee. She reached out for his hand and placed her hand over it. “I admire you for doing this,” she said, and he turned to look at her, surprise on his face. “I cannot imagine what it’s like to go through what you are.”

         “I’m sure it’s not as bad as hearing your Calling.”

         Solona paused. _I can’t hear it_. She had not noticed that since Adamant, the deadly song had disappeared from her mind. It was as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, a death sentence removed—or delayed at least.

         “It drove me crazy, but I physically felt no different. You on the other hand look like a wreck.” She shuffled over towards him, wincing from the pain in her ribs that had not quite healed, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He fell into her, his arms winding round her waist, head resting on her shoulder. “I’ll help you through this, okay?” she whispered into his neck. “You don’t have to go through it alone.”

         He pulled back, his hazel eyes shiny, a smile on his lips. “You mean that?”

         Solona nodded. “Of course. I—”

         Cullen leaned his head down towards her, his hand slipping behind her neck, and crushed his lips with hers. She held back a gasp as he kissed her, his other hand bunched in her shirt by her waist. The shock of the kiss sent a spike of adrenaline through her veins, the pain in her body fizzling away. Her hands automatically reached out for him, clutching at his armour to pull him closer.

         He flinched away, eyes wide with panic. “I shouldn’t have done that…I am so sorry! I just assumed…please, forgive me, I—”

         She silenced him by re-joining their lips, a soft and gentle kiss. “The only thing you need to apologise for is stopping,” she teased, her hand resting on his cheek, thumb stroking across his cheekbone. A warmth spread through her bones, from her fingers to her toes. It was a feeling she had never felt before. All she knew was that it was because of Cullen. He smiled down at her again, their eyes locked, the rest of the room blurring out of existence.

         “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispered, his cheeks flushing pink.

         “A while I’m told,” she joked. “People in the tower used to whisper that you had feelings for me.”

         Cullen bit his lip. “I did—I…I-I _do_ have feelings for you. You cannot imagine how many nights I have laid awake kicking myself for what I did to you—”

         She placed a finger to his lips. “Enough of that,” she said gently. “I forgive you, Cullen. We both went through a difficult time—we’re _still_ going through a difficult time, but at least now we have each other to help get through it.”

         He lent down again, their foreheads touching, his eyes closing. “You forgive me…” he said, his voice no louder than a whisper. “The Maker has shown mercy on me.” He pulled away and helped her lay down again. “Once you are healed…I would like to take you somewhere.”

         “Like…like a date?” she asked, cocking her head to one side.

         Cullen nodded. “Like a date.”

         She smiled. “I look forward to it.”

         He rose from the bed, planting a kiss on her forehead before he left the room, leaving Solona smiling after him.


	57. Chapter 57

_57 – Cullen_

Solona was up and walking again in no time—not that Cullen was there to see it. He had been up to his neck in work, barely leaving his quarters except for attending war room meetings where she had not been present. He sat slumped over his desk, his head resting on crossed arms, closing his throbbing eyes for just a moment. He had been reading reports from each of the different groups within the Inquisition: the mages and their training, the Templars and their tolerance of Inquisition mages, the Wardens and their loyalty, the Orlesian nobles—though they were not really reports. They were sickening love letters that Cullen did not dare open any longer, instead choosing to throw them into the fire beside Varric’s table on his way to war room meetings, the wax seals still intact.

          The door to his quarters opened with a creak, the orange evening sun spilling into the room. Grudgingly he sat up, smoothing down his hair. It had grown out a little more than he liked, a few wispy pieces falling into his eyes. A servant walked into the room, holding something in their hands. “I’ve something for you, ser,” they said as they entered, approaching his desk. Upon it they laid a cup and saucer, with a little note leaning up against the cup. Cullen dismissed the servant with a nod, who closed the door behind him.

          Cullen stretched, the metal armour on his chest digging into his skin slightly. He turned his attention to the cup with a note. It appeared to be a cup of tea…the same sort of tea he had given Solona the other day. He picked up the little note on the saucer and unfolded it:

 

**_A little something to help you through those reports._ **

**_S x_ **

         

          _S?_ Was it Sera? Or Solas? _Neither of them would sign it with a kiss… If it were Sera, the tea would no doubt smell funny…or have exploded in my face by now, and Solas has no reason to send me tea…_ No, it had to be _her_. Solona. A smile grew on his face as he held the cup with both his hands, sealing in the warmth between his fingers.

          The sound of sparring and issued commands caught his ears, and he wandered over to the window to investigate. Through the small slither of glass he spotted Solona in the centre of a patch of grass, continuing to teach the mages battle techniques with their staffs, as their part in this war was not yet done. They needed to know how to fight without the aid of magic. After the attack from Sampson, she insisted on ensuring that the other mages would not be helpless should the event happen again, and none of them were able to command their magic.

          He sipped the warm tea as he watched her twirl her staff around her like an extension of her body, the sunlight glinting from the blade on the base and the gem on the tip. She went through move by move, the mages copying her. Even some of the Warden mages had joined, wanting to prove their worth to their Commander. She had taken charge of both the Inquisition mages and the Wardens who had joined. The warriors and rogues who had not been under the influence of Corypheus had been sent out on missions in Ferelden—away from Orlais where they were originally affected—to help clear the countryside of demons, making travelling a safer experience. The Warden mages however were not as trusted. They had broken free of Corypheus’ control, but they had committed terrible acts and needed to prove themselves trustworthy. Not everyone believed they were deserving of another chance, however.

          “You dare show your faces here, maleficars!” a group of rowdy Templars shouted from across the grass, making their way out of the Tavern, _The Herald’s Rest_ , named after the Inquisitor. They swaggered over to Solona and the mages beneath her command, their shoulders squared ready for a fight. Solona pushed her way through the mages—some who cowered from the Templars, others who stood their ground and glared back—and faced them herself, positioning her body as if to shield those under her command from these armoured men and women.

          “What do you want?” she asked, hands on her hips. “Not here to try and tell us off for practicing magic in front of everyone are you—oh, wait. We _weren’t_.”

          “They’re blood mages!” one Templar shouted, pointing at the Warden mages, who were beginning to form a line behind Solona. Unlike the rebel mages, most of whom had come fresh from Circles across Thedas, the Warden mages did not fear the Templars. “They should be put to death for what they’ve done! As should these rebel scum who couldn’t learn their place.”

          Solona whipped out her staff and pointed the blade-end at his jugular. “Say that again, I dare you,” she warned. The Templars pulled out their blades. Cullen dropped his tea, the cup smashing to the floor as he threw open the door and rushed down the steps leading down from the battlements towards them, his cloak billowing behind him.

          Unfortunately, there were still some Templars in the Inquisition who believed that the rebel mages should have stayed in their Circles and been obedient to their Templar jailors, like these men, but the Inquisition could not turn away help where it was offered.

          “You may be a hero, but you’re still a _mage_ ,” spat another Templar, taking a step towards her with his blade drawn. “One that should’ve been locked away as soon as you defeated the Blight.”

          Solona whipped her staff away from the Templar she had threatened previously and pointed it towards the second one. “Do not anger me,” she growled. “Everyone here has proved or is proving their worth. It is ignorant people like _you_ that cause wars like this one.”

          “You want a proper war?” said the first Templar, taking a dangerous step towards Solona. “I’ll give you a war, starting right now by chopping off your head for all to see—”

          “ENOUGH!” Cullen roared as he reached the bottom of the steps leading down from the battlements. “Weapons away, all of you!” The Templars sheathed their blades immediately, their hands in fists across their chests in a sign of respect, but Solona did not lower her staff until Cullen placed a hand on her shoulder. “I dealt with enough Mage-Templar conflict in Haven. I thought we had moved past this.”

          “Some people can’t let go of grudges,” Solona muttered.

          “The mages have proved their worth,” Cullen told the Templars sternly. “They are no threat. The Warden mages are hoping to achieve the same thing. We must give them that chance, or you will be at each other’s throats until someone gets hurt. We are all here for one reason, to stop Corypheus. If we fight amongst ourselves, the battle is lost. Unity is needed at this time, not disruption. You are dismissed.” The Templars bowed and left obediently, though it did not stop them shooting dirty looks back at Solona and the mages.

          He turned back to the mages to see Solona staring up at him, awe and admiration in her expression, one he had ever seen before—not towards _him_ at least. “May I have a word, Commander?” she asked. “In your office.”

          Cullen nodded, his brows knotting together curiously. Solona dismissed the mages, promising to continue their training another day, before they walked together back up the stairs to his quarters.

          “I received your tea,” he said, making conversation as they ascended. “You made it almost identically to how I do.”

          “It took me a few tries but I managed to figure out the ingredients, with help,” she replied.

          Cullen opened the door for her, but as she walked inside she grabbed hold of his armour and yanked him in with her. She kicked the door shut behind him with her boot and pressed Cullen up against it, her fingers winding into his hair to pull his lips down onto hers. He stifled a gasp as she kissed him, soft moans escaping her lips. Her body pressed up against his, crushing them together as if she could not get close enough to him. A deep groan erupted from his throat, his arms snaking round her waist and upper back to hold her tight, returning her kiss with a passion he had held back for years. She tasted like lyrium and sugar cookies, a tiny bit of residue left on her plump lips.

          He lifted her from the ground, her legs latching on around his hips. Their kiss was never broken as he took her to his desk and sat her down upon it. Her hands gripped his hair, tugging it slightly as if to say, _please don’t stop._ His heart wanted to burst out of his chest as it thrummed against his ribcage. All aches and pains from the lyrium withdrawal were forgotten. All he could see, feel, smell, taste, and hear was _her_. The fear that someone might walk in never crossed his mind as he swept the irritating scrolls off the desk so that Solona could sit on the desk properly, a wave of happiness engulfing him. She had willingly _kissed_ him.

          He opened his eyes at the same time as she did. The deep blue of her irises were nowhere to be seen, as her dilated pupils had swallowed them whole. Desire had taken a hold of her, making him shudder. _She wants me_.

          Cullen broke away, panting as he willed his heart to slow down. “Do you…I mean…is that what you…Solona, I…”

          She stopped, her eyes wide, lips parting. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Did you not… I’m sorry, I should never have…” She squeezed out of his arms and leapt off the table, smoothing down her Grey Warden uniform as she took several steps back, putting distance between them. “I got carried away, I’m—”

          “Don’t apologise, please,” he said, reaching out to her, unable to bear the distance. He held both of her arms so that she faced him. “I didn’t know where this was going.”

          Solona frowned. “What do you mean?”

          “I-If we…If…” His eyes lifted to the boards above, where his untidy bed sat.

          She followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing with understanding. “Oh! You thought…” She blushed a bright shade of pink. Cullen almost smiled despite the nerves buzzing through him at that moment. He had never seen her blush quite so hard. “I would never presume such a thing,” she said quickly. “Not without asking first and—”

          “I’ve never…” He looked away. “I’ve never been with anyone.”

          “You’ve never kissed someone before?”

          Cullen shook his head, chewing on his lip.

          Solona’s mouth dropped open. “ _Oh!_ You’ve never _been_ with someone.” She took a step closer to him, her hands resting on his armoured chest. How he wished he could rip it off so he could feel her touch against his skin. “Neither have I,” she said softly. “But if I was going to… _be_ with someone for the first time, I would prefer that it was with…with you.”

          Cullen swallowed as his heart raced again, swelling with a feeling he had only ever felt with her. Was it love? Lust? Affection? He didn’t know. All he knew was that she had confirmed his previous thoughts…that she _wanted_ him, and he most definitely wanted her.

          “Well…if you wanted to…not that you need to say yes, I would not dare try to pressure you…but if you wanted…w-we could…” He gestured up at the floorboards again with a flick of his eyes. “Whenever you’re ready. Or if you want to at all. Not that you need to say—”

          “Yes,” she said, breathlessly, to his surprise. “If _you_ want to that is.”

           A smile crept onto his face, as it always seemed to do when speaking with Solona Amell. “I want you more than anything,” he admitted, more desperately than he had intended.

          She smiled too and offered his hand. He took it, allowing her to lead him over to the ladder, up towards his bedroom.


	58. Chapter 58

_58 – Solona_

Solona awoke the next morning to a feeling of bliss, a warmth that spread from head to toe, a smile on her face. Even the dark dream she had had about darkspawn, blood, battles, and archdemons could not disturb how she felt. The roof above her had many holes, letting in the cold air from the mountains outside. She shivered slightly, pulling the sheets up over her naked body. To her left lay Cullen, his bare back exposed to her as he slept on his side, facing the wall.

          _Never in a thousand years did I think I would be in this situation._ Holding the sheets against her chest, she sat up and turned to him. “Cullen,” she whispered, but he did not seem to hear her. She leant over him, noting how his eyes moved beneath his lids, his face crinkled with anxiety and fear, his fingers clutching onto the sheets beneath him and his pillow, his breathing heavy.

          She placed a hand on his shoulder “Cullen,” she called again, a little louder. This time he awoke, gasping. His eyes were wide as they darted about the room, as if looking for danger. “Hey, it's all right,” she said, rubbing his arm. “It’s okay. It’s just me and you here.”

          Cullen looked startled to see her in the bed beside him, but he looked into her eyes for a few moments before he fell back onto his pillow, a hand on his forehead. “How embarrassing,” he mumbled.

          She snuggled up against him, her head on his shoulder. “Nightmare?” she asked, gently stroking his bare chest with her fingers.

          He took her hand and laid it flat over his heart, so she could feel it beating beneath her fingers. Slowly but surely, his heart returned to a normal rhythm. “Yes.”

          “What was it about?” she asked, curious. He had mentioned nightmares before, but had never said what they were about.

          “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, staring up at the ceiling.

          “It might help,” she said. “Sometimes talking about things helps solve them.”

          Cullen sighed wearily, closing his eyes as if afraid to look at her. “They’re normally about you.”

          Solona blinked. She had not expected that. “Me?”

          “Not _just_ you, but generally you make an appearance. What happened to me during the Blight…to my fellow Templars at the hands of maleficars. How a demon with your face tortured me for what felt like days, maybe even weeks. The events of Kirkwall with Meredith…”

          Solona propped herself up on her elbow as he spoke, watching his face change as the ghost of his past haunted him. In life he seemed to be improving from what had happened to him, but in his sleep, it appeared not much had changed.

          “Without lyrium, the dreams are more frequent. More…frightening.”

          She reached up and smoothed down his hair, pushing blond curls out of his hazel eyes. “I have nightmares too,” she said. “I fight endless hordes of darkspawn that threaten to overwhelm me. They tear me to pieces some nights, others they torture those I love. Sometimes I see the world in chaos, in ashes, and it’s always my fault. Because I didn’t act, or I _did_ act. I re-live the battles I have fought in and the deaths of those I cared about. I haven’t slept well in ten years.”

          Cullen looked to her, his face unreadable. He reached up and hooked a hand behind her neck, pulling her down for a kiss. Their lips touched, sending a shiver through her body as she realised what had happened last night between them and that they were still without clothes together in bed. A part of her wanted to blush and hide herself, but another part—the more dominant part—liked it. Their bare skin touched and it was like a spark flickered to life between them, igniting a flame that would grow until they could not keep their hands off one another. But she restrained herself, instead submitting to his gentle kiss.

          “We’re more alike than I thought,” he said between kisses. “I never thought I’d find myself with someone like you.”

          Solona froze. “W-With?” she stuttered. She pulled away, clutching the sheets to cover her chest.

          The colour drained from Cullen’s face, as if he had made a deadly mistake. “Oh Maker, I didn’t mean…”

          “You want to be with me?” she asked, her voice breaking. Hot tears stung her eyes. “Despite what I am?”

          Cullen’s brows knitted together. “Whatever do you mean?” He reached over to take her free hand that was not clutching the sheets. “What do you think you are?”

          She swallowed hard, looking away, unable to meet his eye out of fear of what he would think. Would he leave the bed, ask _her_ to leave? Never speak to her again, want nothing to do with her? “I…you deserve better than a Warden,” she said, biting back tears. “You shouldn’t want me.”

          Cullen shuffled over so they were close again, and rubbed her arm comfortingly with his fingers. “You are undeserving of _me_ ,” he said. “I am damaged, broken. I fear magic still although I deny it. My Templar training is hard to ignore. I have done terrible things, to you and others. I would have thought you’d reject me after I revealed how I feel about you.”

          Solona laughed. “Oh, Cullen, how could I reject a sweetheart like you?” She planted a kiss on his cheek. “But you are not as broken as you believe. You are whole compared to me. I am tainted, destined for…for death.”

          Cullen shook his head. “No, you aren’t going to die. You are a talented warrior who has survived several battles—”

          “I mean the taint,” she said. “You don’t know anything about Grey Wardens.” She took a deep breath to steel herself. “To become a Warden, you must drink darkspawn blood to gain the ability not to be affected by the Blight.”

          Cullen’s lips parted in surprise.

          “And once you have taken in this blood,” she continued, looking away from him again, unable to bear his reaction to what came next, “you gain the taint, but it slowly kills you. When it is your time, you hear your Calling and go into the Deep Roads to die, otherwise you’re driven mad and become a darkspawn husk. That is my future. It could come any time. My fate is sealed.”

          She dared a look at Cullen beside her from beneath her long black lashes. He sat up, completely silent. The lack of words was almost torturous. _Say something, please_ , she begged silently.

          “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I feel like I’ve led you on. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to—”

          “Don’t say that,” Cullen said sharply, making her jump. “Don’t say that you shouldn’t have made me care for you, because I cared about you way before you had any sort of affection for me.” He placed two fingers beneath her chin and made her look at him. “You have been the brightest star in my dark sky. With you, I do not feel alone. You understand me, you tolerate me, you make me a better person.”

          “Yet I will never be able to give you what you want,” Solona replied, stifling a sob. She hastily wiped away tears that escaped her watery eyes. “I know you are the sort of man who wants a family. A loving wife and a…a child of your own. But I can’t give you that.”

          “Why not?”

          Suddenly her heart clenched, spilling more tears down her cheeks. “I’m barren!” she almost shouted. “I can’t have children!” She brought the sheets to her eyes and sobbed into them, hiding her blotchy face from the man whose eyes she could feel on her skin. “I can’t give you a happily ever after like in the stories. I have a duty to the Wardens—a _lifelong_ duty. I will die long before you. I will never be the woman you need, who you deserve.” She slipped out of the bed, keeping her back to him as she grabbed her undershirt from the floor beside her, slipping it on to cover her bare body. “I should never have allowed myself to fall for such a pure man like you,” she whimpered. “It’s unfair, for you and me both.”

          The sound of the bed creaking startled her. _He’s walking away_ , she thought. _He’s leaving…_ A pair of arms wound around her waist from behind. Cullen rested his head on her shoulder, and gave her a gentle kiss on her neck, his back cradling her body.

          “ _You_ are what I want,” he said, his voice low. “I would rather have a second with you than a lifetime with anyone else.” He turned her around to face him. “Yes it…it shocks me, what you have said. And yes I have thought about having a family like my sister, Mia, and perhaps marrying someone someday. But I would rather have you over all of those things. For without you, my life is meaningless.”

          It was as though she had lost the ability to speak. Her lips parted but no words left them. She looked up at him, staring down at her with such sincerity that she threw her arms around his neck and held him close, closing her eyes. “You are too good to me,” she said.

          “You say you are dying,” he said into her hair, “but either one of us could die today, or tomorrow, in months or years from now. We do not know the future. All I know is, I want to be with you until the end of my days, whenever that is.”

          She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him, tasting her tears on her lips. “Thank you.”

          “Thank _you_ for not running away after I just spilled my heart out to you,” he replied.

          She smirked. “I could say the same thing.”

          “I would never run from you,” he said, his arms tightening around her body. “But perhaps Black—I mean, Thom Rainier will run after you’re through with him later.”

          Solona chuckled. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she replied. “I have something in store for him that might surprise a few people.”


	59. Chapter 59

_59 – Solona_

“For judgement this day, Inquisitor, I must present Captain Thom Rainier, formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall.”

         _So, he has been discovered at last_. Thom Rainier was escorted into the throne room, his wrists in iron shackles. The Inquisitor sat tall on her throne, hurt and betrayal clear in her stern glare, back tense and rigid. Solona stood to the side with Cullen, Leliana, and the rest of the Inquisitor’s companions, watching the trial. It was only she and Leliana who were not surprised at the revelation that Warden Blackwall was not a Warden at all.

         “His crimes,” Josephine continued, standing before the throne, “Well, you are aware of his crimes. The decision of what to do with him is yours.”

         The Inquisitor’s hard stare never wavered as he was brought before her. Unlike those of whom she had judged previously, he was allowed to stand as the guards took two steps back, giving him his space, instead of being forced to his knees. Thom Rainier was unable to meet her gaze, his eyes at her feet.

          “Not even a word of thanks, I see,” the Inquisitor spat.

         “I don’t know if I _can_ thank you.” He finally reared his head. His eyes were swelling with guilt and pain. Solona felt a tinge of pity for the man. “I know you put another man in my place. Haven’t enough died for me?”

         The Inquisitor sighed. “I wish there had been another way, but my options were limited.”

         “You could have left me there!” Rainier blurted, his voice raised. “I accepted my punishment. I was ready for all this to end.” He looked up at her, curious. “Why would you stop it? What becomes of me now?”

         The Inquisitor said nothing for a moment, keeping everyone in suspense as she stared down at the imposter from her throne before finally speaking. “Although it was I who had you freed, I do not believe your fate is in my hands. You have wronged those of us here with your deception, but your impersonation of a Warden leads me to believe that the Wardens should be the ones to deal with you.” She looked to Solona. “His fate is in your hands.”

         Solona nodded her gratitude. After the revelation that Blackwall was not actually Blackwall at all, but an Orlesian captain by the name of Thom Rainier who had committed serious crimes against Orlais and had hidden behind another man’s name, Solona was insistent that the Wardens take charge of his punishment. He was pretending to be one of them after all. _If he wants to be a Warden, he can be punished by a Warden_ , she had said, and the Inquisitor had agreed wholeheartedly.

         Solona stepped forward to stand beside the Inquisitor’s throne, all eyes in the room turning to her. “I believe you know who I am?” she asked.

         “Is that a trick question?” asked Rainier.

         Solona did not react to his sarcasm. “Warden-Commander of Ferelden Solona Amell, vanquisher of the Fifth Blight. I didn’t get my title by chance. I earned it. Do you know how?”

         “Everyone knows the story of—”

         “Yes, they know the good parts. That I defeated the Blight and we all lived happily ever after. A nice story to tell one’s children before bedtime. But what people don’t know is what I have suffered as a Warden, the reality of it all. I went through hell and back to defeat the Blight. I killed _hordes_ of darkspawn, as I’ve heard you boldly claim yourself. I’ve been betrayed, lied to, hurt, and almost killed because of what I am, and you think you have the right to falsely name yourself as my brother?”

         She held her hands behind her back as she took a few steps closer to him, moving away from the throne. “Impersonating a Warden is a serious offence. We are not a glorious Order that everyone wants to be a part of. We do the job that no one else can. We suffer whilst others live freely. We die so the world may live without the fear of darkspawn on their doorsteps. I knew from the start that you were no Warden. You have no idea about our Order or what it takes to be a part of it. You are playing pretend at a game you cannot even begin to comprehend. It is downright _insulting_ that you pretend to be one of us.”

         A murmur of agreement rushed around the room, their eyes flicking between Rainier and Solona.

         Rainier hung his head shamefully. “I know.”

         “But,” she said, her tone softer, “I have spoken with King Alistair, who knew of the real Blackwall through our old mentor, Warden-Commander Duncan.” She pulled out a Constable badge from her uniform’s pocket, confiscated from Rainier’s possessions. “Warden-Constable Gordon Blackwall was a good and honest man, who always saw the best in people.” She removed her gaze from the badge and back to the man in front of her. “Perhaps he saw something in you that no one else—including yourself—could see when he conscripted you.”

         Rainier looked up at her, confusion and hope in his eyes.

         “I am willing to give you the chance that the real Warden Blackwall provided for you. You have shown, despite lying to us all, that you understand the values of the Order. You honour and respect us and what we do. After the events of Adamant, I was told how difficult it was for you to slay my kin. That you tried where you could to spare as many Wardens as possible.” She descended the steps towards him. “You are clearly remorseful for the crimes you have committed, and the lies you told. Therefore, I conscript you, Thom Rainier, into the Order in Ferelden, under my command.”

         The audience in attendance gasped at her words, a wave of whispers rushing around the room.

         _“Can she do that? Take him from the Inquisitor’s command?”_

         _“Wardens have the power to conscript people when it’s not a Blight?”_

         _“Perhaps it’s best for him. Redemption.”_

         “Once your business with the Inquisition is done,” Solona continued, “you will undertake the Joining and officially become what you have so far pretended to be. This is your chance to do things right, as you say you want.”

         Rainier looked up at her, eyes wide with disbelief. “You would give me that chance…after everything I’ve done?”

         “I would,” she replied. “We need people like you in the Order who truly believe in us, who can help us rebuild.” With a wave of her fingers, his shackles fell to the ground with a clatter. “But you will go by your true name. No more lies, Rainier. I will not tolerate it.”

         A flicker of a smile flashed across the rugged man’s face. “No more lies,” he repeated, and got down on one knee, a fist slammed across his chest. “I cannot thank you enough for your mercy.”

         She waved for him to stand. “Becoming a Warden is not mercy,” she said quietly. “You will discover that for yourself once this is over.” She turned back to the Inquisitor. “If I may ask a favour of the Inquisition?”

         The Inquisitor nodded, still unable to look at Rainier.

         “If you could spare a few men to look into the _real_ Warden Blackwall, I would appreciate it. I want to see if his remains can be retrieved and honoured for his sacrifice against the darkspawn.”

         “Of course,” said the Inquisitor. “I will have people look into it at once.”

         Solona inclined her head in thanks, and returned her attention to Rainier.

         “What do you ask of me, Commander?” he asked.

         She smiled at his eagerness, his willingness to do good. “You will continue to serve the Inquisition as you are now, recruit. Nothing changes until Corypheus is defeated. After that…you return with me to Amaranthine to undergo the Joining.” She turned to address the court and the Inquisitor. “My decision has been made. Thom Rainier is under my command. Any prejudice against him will not be tolerated. The man wishes to atone, and I have granted him such a chance. If you respect me, respect my decision.”


	60. Chapter 60

_60 – Solona_

Solona followed the Inquisitor into the war room, where Leliana, Josephine, Cullen, and Morrigan were waiting for them.

         Solona could not help but feel proud as she entered the room. The Inquisition was now a force to be reckoned with. They had allies galore from across Thedas, and an army to rival all others at their command. Inquisitor Lavellan had done well to build up such an organisation. But now it was time to put everything to use. The time to strike against Corypheus was now. He was in search of an ancient, long-lost, elven artefact in the Arbor Wilds, rumoured to allow him to physically enter the fade, as Solona and the Inquisitor had done not too long ago. They could not let that happen.

         “With an Eluvian,” said Leliana, “Corypheus could cross into the Fade in the flesh?”

         “Indeed,” Morrigan answered. She stood beside the Inquisitor, holding herself tall and proud. _She’s in her element here,_ Solona realised. _Possessing knowledge that no others have_. But as Solona took her place on the Inquisitor’s other side, she could not help but watch Morrigan with a suspicious eye. Solona had first-hand knowledge of how crafty Morrigan was. She never did anything unless she was going to get something out of it. _I wonder what it will be this time_. _Hopefully not another child with the soul of an old god._ “The Inquisitor can attest that these artifacts still work if one knows how to use them.”

         Cullen turned to the Witch, worry wrinkled across his brow. “What happens when Corypheus enters the Fade?”

         Morrigan tilted her head with a smirk, as if to say, _What an obvious question._ “Why, he will gain his heart’s desire, and take the power of a God.” She turned to the Inquisitor. “Or—and this is more likely—the lunatic will unleash forces that tear the world apart.”

         The Inquisitor’s face scrunched into a stern glare. “We don’t have to worry about this Eluvian if Corypheus isn’t alive to use it.”

         “Stopping him thusly would be ideal,” said Morrigan, “ _if_ you could manage it.”

         The scribe, Josephine, interrupted politely. “Pardon me, but…does this mean everything’s lost unless we get to the Eluvian before him?” she asked, scribbling in her notes.

         Cullen nodded, and looked down at the map. “Corypheus has a head start, no matter how quickly our army moves.”

         “We should gather our allies before we march.”

         “Can we wait for them?” asked Leliana. “We should send our spies ahead to the Arbor Wilds.”

         “Without support from the soldiers?” Cullen exclaimed. “You’d lose half of them!”

         Josephine cut in. “Then what _should_ we do?”

         The Inquisitor stepped forward. “For starters, we don’t let Corypheus worry us to death. Imagine how embarrassing that would be.”

         “We need to work together, as a team,” Solona suggested. “That is when we are at our strongest.”

         The Inquisitor nodded in agreement. “Josephine, have our allies send scouts to meet us in the Wilds. Leliana, your fastest agents will join them. Together, we’ll have enough spies to slow down Corypheus’ army until Cullen’s soldiers and Solona’s mages and Wardens arrive.”

         Morrigan chuckled. “Such confidence! But the Arbor Wilds are not so kind to visitors. Old elven magic lingers in those woods.”

         “We’d be remiss not to take advantage of your knowledge, Lady Morrigan,” said Josephine. “Please, lend us your expertise.”

         “‘Tis why I came here. Although it is good to see its value recognised.”

         Cullen looked to their leader. “Any further instructions, Inquisitor?”

         Inquisitor looked to each person in the room in turn. “Remember what Corypheus has done while you plan. Every loss, every setback, every death.”

         Solona looked away as Hawke flashed before her eyes, her chest tightening. A green haze covered his shaggy face, splattered with ichor and blood. The last time she had seen him, he had been in a deathly battle with a demon the size of the Winter Palace. _No one could survive that._ A small pain in her chest threatened to engulf her. She took a deep breath to keep it down. _Corypheus made him think he needed to sacrifice himself so that we could live, so we could continue this work to take the crazed magister down._

         “Let Corypheus learn what it means to be an enemy of the Inquisition,” said the Inquisitor.

         “He won’t get away with this,” Solona growled. “Not if I can help it.”

         “We’ll hound him into the Wilds before he can find the temple or this ‘Eluvian,’” said Leliana.

 

Wooden pieces were placed upon the war table. Golden keys for Allies. Black Ravens for scouts and spies. Silver fists for soldiers and militia.

         Josephine sent urgent letters to all the allies they had gained throughout Ferelden and Orlais. As soon as word was received, the allies sent their armies marching towards the Arbor Wilds, a sign that the Inquisition had truly earned their loyalty.

         Leliana’s ravens were seen fluttering out of Skyhold’s windows, flying out in various directions to all of her scouts positioned around Thedas. The scouts followed the soldiers into the Wilds, branching off to go ahead of them into Corypheus’ red Templars’ base. Using lit torches, they burned tents and supplies whilst the Templars’ backs were turned, dealing serious damage to their resources.

         Then it was Cullen and Solona’s turn. They readied their forces of rebels, Templars, mages, and Wardens, and set off towards the Arbor Wilds ahead of the Inquisitor. Solona dressed in her finest Warden gear to represent the Grey Wardens. Blue and silver armour, with a griffon blazoned on her chest. On horseback, she led the Wardens and mages behind the Inquisition soldiers, where Cullen took the lead, choosing to march with the men, as if he were one of them—equal.

         Solona looked around as she rode on the back of a tall, brown horse, overlooking all the men and women around her to see an angry army. Many people here had lost people they cared about. Loved ones, friends, family, fellow comrades in arms. There was a fire in their eyes that she had not seen since the Battle of Denerim ten years ago when everyone allied against the Blight. _We might just win this,_ she thought optimisitcally. Beside her, Grey Wardens and mages had the same look in their eyes. They had been betrayed and hurt, and had lost just as many people as anyone else. Although many people still gave them suspicious looks every now and then, they had the right to be there, to fight alongside those who had the same urge to kill Corypheus.

         A flash of silver and red caught her eye. She looked up to see Cullen up on a piece of broken stone that had once belonged to a ruin, scouting ahead for the soldiers. He looked tall and proud, his sword in his hand, pointing forward to let them know to continue onward. As she passed, she gave him a little nod, before returning her gaze straight ahead, where the lush green Wilds grew closer.

         It was not long before a functioning campsite was set up in between the trees. Rows and rows of brown tents covered the lush green ground, greener than any woodland Solona had ever seen. It was thick and dense, with wild plants growing in every nook and crevice, as well as spiralling up trees and along the ground. It had a strange energy too, something invisible to the eye that made the hairs on the back of her neck. The air was thick with moss and floral sweetness, enough to make one relax and forget that they were about to go into battle.

         After a short rest, Solona and Cullen went ahead with their soldiers and mages to begin the battle, bidding farewell to those who would soon follow after them. Solona passed a huge, royal tent and was shocked to see the Empress herself in amongst her gleaming-armoured soldiers. Last of all, they checked in with the Inquisitor, who had just finished speaking with Morrigan and Leliana.

         “Make sure scouts are watching us to ensure accurate reports on our progress,” said Cullen to the spymaster.

         Leliana nodded, but her eyes lingered on Solona. “Please, be careful,” she said, quietly, her tone softer than usual.

         Solona smiled. “You know me, I’m never careful,” she joked.

         “Seriously,” Leliana said, grabbing her arm. “I almost lost you once. I don’t want to lose my dearest friend again.”

         Solona exhaled softly, noting the worry in her blue eyes. “I’ll do my best to create a safe passage for the Inquisitor as well as look after myself.”

         “Do not let your cousin’s death cloud your judgement,” said Morrigan. “This place is alive with something magical…something I have never experienced before. Can you feel it?”

         Solona nodded. “I think I can. I’ll be careful,” she assured them both. “You do the same.” She then turned her back on them and followed Cullen into the depths of the wilds, where the Red Templars were waiting for them.


	61. Chapter 61

_61 – Solona_

Feet submerged by water, the river ran red around her, striped with black ichor. The same stains coloured her clothes and staff, making it slippery to hold. Demonic screams pierced the air around them, the noise making Solona’s ears hurt, but she gritted her teeth and fought on, fighting claustrophobia from the sheer mass of enemies. _We have to clear a path for the Inquisitor._

          They had underestimated how many enemies they would face in the field. There were demons and Red Templars, but also a few Grey Wardens, still under Corypheus’ mind control. She felt his presence in this wild place, dark and twisted. It touched her very being, bringing the deadly sweet song that she had only just pushed out of her mind back to her ears.

          “Ignore what you hear!” she ordered her fellow Grey Wardens, commanding water to slam into a charging Red Templar running her way. “We know this is Corypheus’ doing! Keep fighting!”

          “YES, COMMANDER!” a chorus of voices sounded around her over the clashing of swords and screeches of unnatural beings.

          “Any Warden you see that isn’t with us is against us. Their minds are corrupted!” The words clung to her tongue, but she forced them out with a heavy heart. “Dispose of them!”

          The worst thing was that Solona, the Wardens, and the mages were alone. Cullen and his troops had split off in an effort to forge another path for the Inquisitor, should trouble arise where they were—and trouble was certainly arising here.

          A roar like a hundred lions made Solona gasp. She spun on the spot after decapitating an envy demon with the blade at the end of her staff, water splashing round her legs. A huge, purple Pride demon pushed its way through the trees, snapping thick trunks in half as if they were twigs.

          “WATCH OUT!” she screamed to those fighting on the river bank closest to it, but they did not hear her. The Pride demon unleashed a burst of lightning from its palm and shot it at two Wardens locked in battle with several Red Templars. They went down screaming as the lightning crackled over their bodies, forcing them to drop their weapons. When they were down, the red Templars raised their blades and brought them down into their backs.

          Solona’s stomach lurched at the sight, but she had little time to react as more demons followed after the Pride demon through the trees towards them. _We need backup_ , she realised, looking at their numbers. They were 2-to-1 at least. Perhaps even 3-to-1. Three more pride demons lumbered in after the first, along with Envy, Rage, Fear, Spirit, and Terror demons. Solona’s eyes widened. _I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many demons! Corypheus must have brought most of his army here to find this Eluvian. He wants it that desperately._

          There was no sign of the Inquisitor and her party, the Orlesian Chevaliers, or Cullen’s soldiers, however, and so they were forced to fight on. Solona raised her staff and ran towards the Pride demon that had slain her brothers in arms. She threw flames at the creature, distracting it before it could bring a boulder-sized fist into anymore of her comrades. It roared, recoiling from the flames, its beady eyes trying to spot where they had come from. It found Solona charging towards it, mouth slitting open in a sharp-toothed grin.

          She dodged the first swing, bringing her staff round in an arc. It cut into the demon’s flesh, spilling more black ichor into the river. It roared again, Solona feeling the vibrations in her bones as she stood so close to it. She used the water from the flowing river to trap it in place, swirling around its mouth and nose so it could not breathe. It stumbled backwards away from the fight, distracted by the water. She kept it busy as long as she could until a few warrior Wardens could help slay it with their blades, forcing them deep into the creature’s chest.

          Solona took a moment to take in the scene around her. Cries of pain, splatters of blood, her men and women falling. _Mages are not built for the front lines_. She had trained them as best she could to use their staffs as weapons as well as magic-channelling objects, but it was difficult when demons were launching themselves at you from all directions, giving one hardly any space to move. _Where is Cullen?_ Her eyes scanned the riverbank, water sloshing around her knees, soaking her armour. There was no sign of any of their allies, only more and more demons. An endless hoard determined to end them.

          Her breathing quickened along with her pulse, hammering in her ears. Fear trickled along her arms and into her chest, making her tremble. _There’s too many of them_. Suddenly, everywhere she looked, demons poured in around them. They swarmed around them like angry bees, focusing in on their location. “Andraste, preserve us,” she wheezed, readying her staff once again.

          She ignored the deep ache in her muscles as she kept on fighting, draining her mana with spell after spell. A Warden fell beside her, a deep hole in his chest. Solona slew the terror demon before it could do the same to her. A mage fell in front of her, their chest ripped open. She jerked back before the envy demon could slice open her throat with its long, sharp fingers. Her back singed with a searing heat. A rage demon roared behind her, sending flames into her chest. She fell back into the river, the water flowing over her face.

          She pushed herself up to breathe, but the envy demon grasped her armour, brought her up only for a moment before slamming her back down into the rocky ground, knocking the wind out of her. She kicked out at it, squeezing her mouth shut so not to breathe in any water. Her lungs burned as the creature refused to let her up, screaming at her to breathe.

          Through the shimmering water above, she saw more shapes, red and silver. They charged over her, knocking the demon away before its fingers could pierce her armour. A pale human hand reached into the water and yanked her to the surface. She gasped for air, coughing and spluttering as her lungs eased their complaining. Her vision was a little fuzzy from the lack of air, but she could make out a blond man with red and silver armour kneeling beside her.

 

_Cullen_

“Solona, are you all right?” he asked, voice strained.  

          She coughed up a spit of water, clutching her chest with her gloved hand. “C-Cullen?” She laughed humourlessly. “You took your time!” She was on her feet again in an instant, staff poised at her side. “Where were you?”

          “Just through those trees ahead of you,” he said, straitening up. His armour was ripped and torn in some places, and he was covered in scratches and cuts that he knew would add a few more scars to his already extensive collection. “We managed to slay the demons in our path, but noticed a lot of them were running in this direction. Then I saw you go down and…” His words trailed off as he did not want to say, _And I thought you had died before my eyes._

          “With you guys here, we should stand a chance.” She placed her back against his as they surveyed the situation. The odds were more even now than a few moments ago. Cullen’s men took the heat off Solona’s mages and Wardens, allowing them to stand back and recover for a few moments before diving back into the fight.

          Her hand grasped his free one from behind. “Don’t die on me,” she said jokingly, but Cullen sensed genuine concern in her voice.

          He gave her hand a quick squeeze, reading his blade. “I do not plan on it.”

          They jumped away from each other and into the fighting, less pressured now there were more warriors and rogues on the scene. But there was a pressure on Cullen’s chest that was not from the fighting. The sound of demons screeching buzzed around his ears, his heart clenching in fear. He fought off nausea as he shoved his blade into a Red Templar. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something purple. A pride demon? Or a… _desire demon._ He fought off a shudder, swinging his blade across his body to cut a demon in half.

          _“Open your eyes, Cullen.”_

          _“No, please, go away.”_

          All sound fizzled out around him, and his vision blurred as images flashed through his mind.

          _“Let me out, please! Maker…Someone help me!”_

          _“No one is coming for you, Templar. No one can hear your screams…”_

          His breathing became ragged, the grip on his blade slipping. He stumbled as someone shoved into him, almost falling into the flowing river. Ghostly bruises and cuts from that dark time throbbed on his skin.

          _Templars falling around me… Uldred laughing… Demons screeching… A magical prison… Solona—no, the demon pretending to be her… Smiling down at me as I scream for help… Pleading to The Maker… but no one comes…_

          A hand gripped onto his forearm and yanked him to the side, out of the way of a spirit ball zooming towards them. “Get down!” Solona ordered, her voice snapping him back to the present. He ducked just in time as a pride demon ripped a tree from its roots and threw it towards them. It sailed over their heads, knocking down a soldier to two before it splashed further down the river behind them.

          “Take a moment and breathe,” she urged, commanding the water to act as a shield from a rage demon throwing flames at her. “I can’t defend you and myself.”

          Cullen swallowed, his mouth dry, hands shaking. But his mind kept slipping back into that dark place ten years ago, memories that had never left him, still as clear as if they happened yesterday, ingrained into his brain.

          _“Maker. Oh, Maker, please make it stop…”_

          _“You will remember what magic did to you, Templar, and why you should fear it.”_

          Solona’s voice brought him back again. “Cullen!” she yanked him towards her and out of the way of a blade. She thrust her palm towards a Red Templar. Magical energy burst into their chest, throwing them back into the water.

          He recoiled from her, sensing the power tingling in her veins. _Magic is evil… Magic hurts people… It hurt me… Killed my friends…_ “Get away from me!” he blurted, backing away from her. “Get away, Maleficar!”

          “Cullen, calm down,” she said, as softly as she could manage. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

          He shook his head, the fearsome fog slowly receding. “Solona, I—” He paused, noticing movement behind her. He raised his sword, pushed her aside and knocked an arrow out of the air whizzing towards them that would have pierced Solona’s back. The Templar dropped his bow as Cullen charged, fumbling with his sword on his belt. Cullen got there first, however, cutting him down.

           But he barely straightened as a large, demonic hand clasped itself around his torso. He was thrown backwards into the air, slamming into a rock in the centre of the river, his back threatening to break into two, pain jolting through every part of him, enough to make his vision blur.

          Solona’s scream was distant and hazy. He barely heard her splash over to him, catching his body before it could crumple into river and wash away.

          Her arms wrapped around him, keeping him afloat. “Cullen! Oh, Maker… Can you hear me? Cullen?” She shook him slightly, but all he could manage was a weak gurgle.

          A flash of green light caught his eye. A small group arrived, helping to slay the remaining demons, starting with the one that had thrown Cullen like a rag doll.

          “Thank the Maker,” Solona wheezed, “the Inquisitor is here with Morrigan.” She slung his arm over her shoulder and dragged him through the current to the riverbed, where she laid him down away from the fighting. “You’ve probably broken a rib or two,” she said, checking him over as best she could whilst keeping an eye on the fight. They were both sodden, the water sticking their hair to their faces.

           “I’m going to heal you, okay?” she told him. “Don’t panic. I’m not going to hurt you.” She placed a hand over his chest, a glowing blue light appearing in her palm. His body jerked with fear, but after a few moments, the pain subsided in his head and chest, allowing his mind to clear. Solona focused into his vision. She had a cut over her cheek that trickled blood down her neck. A bruise was beginning to form on her right eye. Her armour was torn and ragged, a cut on her arm exposed.

          He reached up and pulled her down to him, holding her close. “Thank you,” he wheezed. Although the pain was gone, his body was still tender. He winced as he sat up, Solona placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

          “Everyone okay over here?” The Inquisitor, Morrigan, and their party splashed over. “Looks like we missed one hell of a fight.”

          “You can say that again,” Solona answered. “I will be glad to see the back of these demons.”

          “We are almost at the temple,” said Morrigan, her yellow eyes focused on the trees ahead of them. “We should move quickly now that we have a clear path.”

          “If these are Elven ruins, Inquisitor,” said Solona, “be careful. If the Dalish are anything to go by, they are a proud people. Be respectful where you can.”

          “I second that notion,” said Morrigan. She appeared to spare a glance at her old friend crouched on the ground beside her, before her cat-like eyes returned to the trees. “You have done your part, now we shall do ours.” Morrigan led the way for the Inquisitor and her party across the river and into the trees on the other side, leaving Cullen and Solona on the bank together to catch their breath.


	62. Chapter 62

_62 – Cullen_

Cullen sat in the little prayer room in Skyhold, where a statue of Andraste was adorned with flowers and candles around its base. He simply sat by her feet on the stone floor, his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his hands. He did not feel like praying, but needed somewhere peaceful to sit for a while, and, more importantly, to be left alone.

          He had been badly beaten up during their last battle in the Arbor Wilds. He had taken very heavy blows, most of which had been healed by Solona, but nevertheless he had been taken away on a stretcher and kept in the infirmary, locked up in one room for hours on end without release, whilst healers and mages swarmed over him. He had to get away, to be alone for a while, and here in the prayer room was as good a place as any.

          The prayer room door opened for a moment, someone slipped inside, and the door closed behind them. “I thought I’d find you hiding away in here,” said a voice that to him sounded as musical as the birds in the trees outside.

          “I am _not_ going back to the infirmary,” he grumbled.

          Solona giggled at him as she sat down on the floor opposite him. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to drag you out of hiding.”

          Cullen’s eyes lingered on her as she looked around the room. “Do you come here at all?” he asked.

          Solona shook her head. “I’ve never been in here. Mages tend to resent the chantry, seeming as they want us all locked up in towers with the belief that we’re dangerous.”

          “Do _you_ resent the chantry?”

          “A little,” she admitted, staring up at the statue. Her long black hair glistened in the candlelight. “I think they’ve twisted the Maker’s words. _‘Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him_. _Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turn it against His children._ ’”

          “What do _you_ think it means?” he asked, curious. They had never discussed their beliefs before.

          “I think it means that magic is a gift, and we must use it to help one another and better the world. We shouldn’t use it _against_ one another, but _for_ one another.” She sighed. “But I’m sure you’d call me an idealist and that I’m crazy—”

          “Not at all,” Cullen said seriously. “I think…it’s taken some time, but…I think I believe that too. It’s hard, only knowing one belief your entire life and being taught that everyone else is wrong. It makes you blind, hateful, entitled. I fell prey to that. But because of you…” he looked over at her, a smile creeping onto his face, “I feel differently.”

          Solona smiled too. “My, my. You have changed, Cullen. A few years ago, you would have been afraid to be alone with me. Now look at you, here in small room, trapped with a mage.”

          Cullen flinched at the word ‘trapped.’ “Don’t say that,” he blurted, fear crawling over his skin like insects. “It reminds me of—”

          Solona quickly darted forward, climbing over his legs, and placed a finger on his lips to silence him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was careless of me.” She straddled his outstretched legs so she sat on his lap. Her hands reached up to hold his face, and she planted a kiss on his forehead. “You’re okay.”

          “I am when I’m with you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her close. “You understand me.”

          She ran her fingers through his mop of blond hair, and he sighed beneath her hands. “No need to get soppy on me, Cullen,” she teased. “But likewise. You understand me too.” Then she pulled back, sitting on the ground beside him. He smiled as he noticed a light pink flush across her cheeks.

          “You’re so beautiful when you blush,” he said, voice deep. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

          Elissa blinked, jerking back slightly. “You _love_ me?”

          Cullen’s eyes widened in a panic. “I…well, I... I-I…”

          “You’ve never said that before.” She looked up at him with sparkling blue eyes. “But I’m glad you did.” She rested her head against his shoulder and snuggled up against him. “Because I think I…love you too.”

          Cullen’s heart was like a bird, eager to burst out of his chest and take flight. He beamed, joy running through his head to his toes, like lyrium in his veins. He reached over, took one of her hands, and held it to his chest. “My heart has been yours for as long as I can remember,” he said. She looked up at him. “And it will continue to be yours for as long as I live.”

          “As mine will be yours for as long as I live…however long that may be.”

          “Do not speak like that,” he said, lifting her chin to look at him as she tried to look away. “You said before that you were looking for a cure to the Calling, to free you and other Wardens of this death sentence.”

          “Yes, but I didn’t find anything, just dead ends.” She pulled away, and sat with her legs crossed beside him, her eyes in her lap where her hands fiddled with a metal ring that had a griffon head on it. “I’ve known for a while that I won’t have too much longer to live. I have maybe twenty years more at most, but I’ve made peace with it. All Wardens have to—”

          “But not _you_ ,” said Cullen, almost pleadingly. “You can’t give up. Not when it’s uncertain that there isn’t a cure.”

          “It’s uncertain that there _is_ one.” She sighed, closing her eyes. “I want to be with you, Cullen, but I know that one day I’ll break your heart. I’ll die long before you. I don’t want you to waste your life with a woman who will be too caught up in her duty to be the woman you deserve.” She got to her feet, a defeated look in her eye, and turned to walk out.

          Cullen jumped up and caught her arm, then put himself between her and the door. “There’s no way I’m losing you now,” he said, determined. “Not when you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He pulled her close, against his chest, and held her tightly. “I want to be with you. I want to love you for as long as you live. I don’t care if you die before me, because I’ll know that when that day comes, I had the most amazing woman in my life by my side until her last breath. That she chose me, of all people, to share her heart with.”

          Solona looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “You mean that?”

          “Every word,” he promised. “I am willing to be with you, despite you being a Warden. Despite the fact that you’re a mage and I’m an ex-Templar. Despite everything that you say could tear us apart…I want to be with you, from this day until my last day.”

          Solona smiled up at him, tears trickling down her cheeks.

          “So you had better not give up on this cure. When this is all over, I’ll help you. I’ll do what I can to find you new leads to investigate.”

          Solona reached up to plant another kiss on his lips. “You are the sweetest man alive, Cullen Stanton Rutherford,” she said adoringly. “And I will love you for the rest of my days, however long that is.”

          “I’ll make sure it’s several decades yet,” he said. “Besides, who knows what damage years of taking Lyrium has done to my body? I’m pretty sure I lost a few years off my life.”

          Solona giggled. “You’re just saying that.” She held both his hands in hers. “But I promise I won’t give up hope then. When I have the time, I will do my best to continue my search, for you.”

          “That’s all I ask.”

          With a nod, she took a step back. “Well, I’d better go. We have a final confrontation to prepare for. We’ve pulled everything Corypheus needed out from beneath him and left him desperate. There’s no doubt he’ll want to attack in a final ditch attempt to kill the Inquisitor. I have to get the Wardens and mages ready.” She moved towards the door. “I’ll see you out there.”

          Cullen watched her leave, a smile on his face. He’d have never thought ten years ago that he would be here with the love of his life, returning his love. But here he was, about to finish a nationwide war with her by his side. If he died tomorrow, he’d die the happiest man in Thedas.


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you everyone who's left Kudos on this work! It pleases me to know that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it! And to those of you who've read it and are continuing to read it each time I post a new chapter, I appreciate you all.

_63 – Cullen_

The mood was high in the war room. Cullen stood around the war table with Morrigan, the Inquisitor, Solona, Josephine, and Leliana. The Inquisitor had been through the Eluvian Morrigan had found and was keeping in a disused room at Skyhold, and had learned vital information that would help them in the final battle—whenever that would be.

          “Then all that remains,” said Cullen, “is to find Corypheus before he comes to us.”

          “We’ve been looking for his base since all this began,” said Leliana, “with no success.”

          “His dragon must come and go from _somewhere_.”

          Josephine pitched in. “What about the Deep Roads? We could send word to Orzammar, hire envoys to—”

          The Mark on the Inquisitor’s hand flickered, a green glow escaping her gloves. Then the sky through the window behind them burst open, coating everything in a hazy green.

          A gasp from around the table made everyone jump. They turned to see Solona clutching her head, eyes closed, brow furrowed. Cullen rushed around the table to her side.

          “He’s near,” she muttered, as Cullen placed a gentle hand on her back. “He’s close. Oh Maker, he’s so close…”

          “Corypheus,” said the Inquisitor.

          “I can hear him…hear his…song…the _Calling_ …”

          Cullen took hold of her by the shoulders. “It isn’t real,” he said calmly. “You know it isn’t real.”

          But she appeared not to hear him, her breathing uneven. “I must tell the others…warn them…” She suddenly tore herself away from Cullen and rushed out of the room.

          The Inquisitor stared at her hand, her face setting with determination. “Either I close the breach again, or it swallows the world.”

          “But that’s madness!” cried Josephine, clutching her scribe’s board to her chest. “Wouldn’t it kill him as well?”

          The three advisors looked to one another, and realisation crossed between them.

          “Inquisitor,” said Cullen, his voice strained, “we have no forces to send with you—we must wait for them to return from the Arbor Wilds.”

          The Inquisitor sighed heavily. “Just as Corypheus expects, I suppose.” The Dalish elf looked up at the breach through the window. “I must go _now_.”

          Cullen nodded in agreement, but his mind was elsewhere. He worried for Solona, and as soon as the meeting was adjourned, he rushed out the doors after her. He raced out into the throne room and then outside where a small group of Wardens who had returned from the Arbor Wilds had gathered, all clutching at their heads.

          “It isn’t real,” Solona warned them, almost pleadingly. “We know this is Corypheus’ doing.”

          “Y-Yes, Commander,” they chimed all together, but worry was clear in their wavering voices.

          “Get yourselves inside and stay there until this is over and I come to fetch you, do you understand?”

          “But, Commander, we cannot sit by while—”

          “In,” she barked, “ _now_ ,” pointing at the steps Cullen raced down. As her Wardens left her side, she placed a hand to her forehead, eyes closed, listening to something he couldn’t hear.

          Cullen pulled her into an embrace as soon as he reached her. “It’s not real, my love. It’s not real,” he said over and over, holding her close, stroking her hair.

          “It’s…It’s so _loud_ ,” she whimpered. “I-I can’t stand it.” Her hands clutched at his fur cloak. “I can’t shut it out. I can’t… It won’t stop…” Solona started to slip out of his grasp, shaking her head as if it could rid her of Corypheus’ influence.

          Cullen tightened his grip on her arms, leaned down, and planted a kiss on her lips. She froze beneath him, before her tense body relaxed, leaning in towards his. “Stay here, with me, Solona,” he whispered. “Concentrate.”

          She took slow breaths, her shoulders slowly coming down from up by her ears. She parted her lips to speak, but before any words could leave her, the ground rumbled and violently shook, knocking everyone off their feet. Cullen grabbed hold of her to ensure she fell on top of him, cushioning her fall. Solona crawled off of him and jumped to her feet, staring up at the sky. “What magic can do _that_?”

          The ground just outside Skyhold, in the Valley of Sacred Ashes, broke apart in a flash of red, and rose up into the sky. Upon one of them, Cullen, still lying on the ground, noticed a tiny flash of green among four figures as they rose up on one of the rocks currently soaring up towards the breach.

          “Inquisitor!” he cried, getting to his feet beside Solona, but the ground rose higher and higher before them, until they were tiny dots in the sky.

          A loud chorus of screeches ripped through the air. Flashes of green smoke appeared like flickering lights over Skyhold, and as the smoke faded away, demons stood in their place. Solona reached for the staff on her back, and Cullen unsheathed the sword on his belt.

          “Whatever happens,” she said, taking him by surprise, “know that you’ve made me the happiest woman in Thedas. I love you, Cullen.”

          He leaned down and kissed her, a quick but tender kiss. “I love you too, Solona.”

          Then they pressed their backs together, watched as the demons broke through the minimal guards they had stationed around the fortress’ gates, and prepared themselves for a long and difficult fight.

 

_Solona_

The fighting seemed to go on _forever_. Demons in huge numbers flooded into the fortress, overwhelming them. Solona had taken many hits all over her body, blood seeping through her Grey Warden armour.

          It was worse than the Arbor Wilds. At least then they had had an army with them. But a majority of their men had not yet returned from the Arbor Wilds, and all that was left was a small number of men that guarded Skyhold, a handful of Grey Wardens, and the Inquisitor’s companions who had not accompanied her to face Corypheus: Vivienne, Sera, Cole, Dorian, The Iron Bull, and Thom Rainer—formerly known as Blackwall.

          The stream of demons was endless. If you killed one, two took its place. Solona’s muscles ached with strain as she cast spell after spell, but she dared not stop. One false move and she would be cut in half like a piece of meat. She spared a look behind her to see Cullen just about managing, keeping on top of the demons flooding towards him. Every so often she would shoot a spell behind her towards a demon about to chop his head off from behind.

          A flash of blue and silver caught her eye. To her left, Grey Wardens marched out of the castle, a man at their head. “You are honourable men!” yelled Rainer, swinging his sword into a demon’s chest, sending ichor everywhere. “You are Grey Wardens! You do not cower from an unnatural darkspawn! You defeat them!” Bravery spread throughout the Wardens, and although Solona could see the anxiety in their eyes at the Calling encasing their minds, they joined in the fight at Rainer’s side. She couldn’t help but shoot Rainer an admirable look. _He’ll make a decent Grey Warden, should he survive the Joining._

          Solona’s mana was drained to the point of exhaustion. She instinctively reached for a bag on her shoulder that was not there, desperate for a mana potion. In the sky above them, red streaks flashed in between the eerie green glow. The rocks stayed floating in the sky, the Inquisitor and her companions still out of their reach.

          All of a sudden, the sky roared, the red disappearing, completely engulphed by green. The breach blinded everyone on the ground with a bright light, before it snapped shut, leaving only a glowing green crack in the sky in its place.

          Then the rocks in the sky started to fall.

          They smashed into the ground like bombs, the stone rumbling, vibrating. It was like a battlefield as people fled, rushing inside to escape being crushed by a giant rock that would squash you into a bloody paste. Shockwaves from the falling rocks impacting the ground knocked everyone off their feet, sending Solona flying. She fell to the side as a rock landed on her right. Slamming into the ground, she wheezed, the wind knocked out of her.

          She fell behind as people rushed past her, too scared to stop and help her to her feet. She dragged herself upright, clutching at her torso as her ribs ached from the impact with the ground and stumbled towards Skyhold’s doors.

          Someone screamed her name. She paused, looking up to see a rock hurtling towards her at great speed. She stumbled as another rock fell nearby, the shockwave knocking her off her feet, before everything went black.

 

_Cullen_

Her name left his lips moments too late. She looked up, saw what he tried to warn her about, but before anyone could react, the rock fell down upon her, dust filling the air from impact, clouding her from view.

          Cullen fell to his knees as he stood upon Skyhold’s steps beside the doors. He had been ushering people inside, his Commander-role taking over. But then he had looked back and saw what was about to happen…but he had reacted too late. Numbness spread within him, all over except for his heart, that hurt so much it was as though someone had taken his sword and shoved it through his heart. He sat motionless, leaning back on his ankles, staring at the dust cloud where Solona had been.

          Sobs escaped his throat, his eyes stinging with tears. “No…” he wailed. “No… _no_ , please no!”

          _I shouldn’t have left her side…I should have stayed with her…_

          His gloved hands reached up and grabbed his blond hair. The pain in his scalp was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. The sanity he had begun to feel around her started to crumble, his mind floating back to that terrible night…when the demon had told him of his worst fears…that she was a warden because of him…that she was probably dead because of him…

          Except, now it was true. She was dead, because he chose to help people flee inside rather than stand beside the woman he loved.

          His body trembled, anger and sorrow swirling with him, his chest tightening. With an almighty roar, his fist slammed into the stone beside him, his teeth bared, tears rolling down his cheeks, ignoring those who urged him to come inside to safety, away from the falling rocks.

          A familiar sound reached his ears. A fizzle…a fizzle of _magic_. The dust cloud dispersed, settling on the ground, revealing a glowing magical shield-dome, the rock smashed into pieces around it. Inside was a woman with her hand in the air, casting the spell. _Solona_.

          Cullen’s heart almost burst with joy. He rushed down the steps towards her as the magical dome fizzled out, and took her into his arms just as she collapsed with exhaustion.

          “I…I can’t hear it anymore,” she said, her voice tiny and weak. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her towards Skyhold’s main doors. “I can’t hear the…the Calling.”

          Cullen smiled as they ascended the stairs. “Then the Inquisitor was successful. We have won.”

          As they walked through the doors, where everyone was huddled inside, Solona passed out, her body completely drained. He sat with her on the steps by the throne, smoothing out her hair as she recovered, lying beside him, needing a well-earned rest before she could get up and go again.

          A thought occurred to him. She had almost died before his eyes. _Is that how I feel about her dying? How will I manage it when she has to answer her Calling?_ Determination filled every part of him as he looked down at her peaceful face. _I have to help her find the Calling. I can’t lose her again so suddenly._

          Her eyes closed, completely asleep, she snuggled up to him, her head on his thigh, legs tucked up in front of her like a baby. He couldn’t help but smile at her. _I do love you, Solona. I hope you know how much, and how much I need you. Please don’t leave me yet._


	64. Chapter 64

64 – Cullen

Skyhold held the grandest feast Ferelden had ever seen. Tables of food and drink lined the walls. People drunk and ate and sang merrily. Corypheus was defeated, the fighting was over, and now they had a moment of peace to celebrate all their hard work.

          Cullen was thankful that this was not another Orlesian celebration, with Orlesians drooling over him, drinking themselves silly, and gossiping until the early hours of the morning. Ferelden’s celebrations were more rustic, more casual, but far jollier. Tankards of mead clashed together, the liquid spilling down drinkers’ arms. Games of Wicked Grace were played with an audience, cheering on whomever was winning. The food was simple but wholesome, and the music was light and joyful. Cullen stayed on the side-lines, however, not one for parties and celebrating. He was eager to get back into routine, commanding soldiers or troop movements…or _something_. He didn’t like having nothing to do.

          “Do you always stand to the side like this at parties?” asked a familiar voice.

          Cullen looked down to his left to see Solona had silently slipped in beside him, leaning against the stone wall behind them. “I would rather be getting back to work,” he admitted. “I think this is frivolous.”

          Solona chuckled. “Perhaps you should let your hair down every now and then. Give yourself a break from being stuck up in your office all day.” Speaking of letting one’s hair down, Solona had let hers down. Her black locks flowed down her back and over her shoulders, almost touching her waist, and in her hair was a silver griffon pin, keeping her fringe out of her eyes. What took him by surprise, however, was that she was in full military uniform, her Grey Warden uniform glistening in the candlelight.

          “Cullen, may I speak with you for a moment?” she asked. The seriousness of her tone made him pause, his brows crushing together. He gave her a nod and followed her outside, away from the party. The music was muted as the doors closed behind them, and they sat together on the stone steps leading up to the fortress. Everyone was inside celebrating, so there was only the occasional guard here and there keeping an eye on things outside.

          “Why are you in your uniform?” he asked, sitting on the step beside her.

          Solona did not look at him, choosing to look ahead at the starry sky just past the battlements. “I have been summoned to Weisshaupt,” she said. “They recently learned that I helped the Inquisition and they want a full, unbiased report on what happened, especially with the Wardens under Commander-Clarel’s command. Then there’s also the business of Joining Rainier to the Order and settling him in.”

          “No time to rest, eh?” said Cullen. “Although the fighting is over, the world doesn’t stop. We must continue onwards.”

          Solona nodded, still unable to look at him. He placed a hand over hers that rested on her thigh. “What is it?” he asked.

          She sighed. “I was becoming rather comfortable here. With Varric, Morrigan, Leliana, you…” She ran a hand through her hair that shined beneath the moonlight. “I don’t want to go.”

          “It won’t be for long, surely?” he asked, hopeful. “A few months perhaps.”

          “I can’t return here,” she said, taking him by surprise. “I’m not a part of the Inquisition. My duty lies elsewhere. I have to listen to my superiors and leave you lot to your own devices, now the immediate threat of Corypheus is defeated.”

          Cullen blinked. “But…you can visit, surely?”

          Solona shook her head. “How can I visit when I’m on the other side of Thedas? I don’t even remember the last time I saw Alistair. I have no idea where my duties will take me until I receive orders, and then they can take months, maybe years of my time to complete.” She finally looked at him. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

          Cullen swallowed as a lump rose in his throat. “I must admit…that saddens me to hear.” He felt his chest clench at the thought of not seeing her for a long time. It was selfish of him, but he almost wanted to tell her to screw the Order and stay here. But one cannot leave their duty so easily, especially when it is for the greater good. “When do you leave?” he asked.

          “Tonight,” she said taking him aback. “I should have left the moment Corypheus was defeated a few days ago, but I wanted to have a little longer here…with you.” She placed her hand over the top of his.

          “So soon?” he asked. “But there’s so little time to…”

          “I don’t know when we’ll meet again, but I want you to have something.” She slipped off her griffon ring and placed it in the palm of his hand. “You mean a lot to me, Cullen, and I want you to have this, to remind you of me, so…so you don’t forget me.”

          Cullen smiled. “How could I forget _you_?” His fingers closed around the ring. It was so small that he knew there was no way it would fit on his large fingers, perhaps on the smallest one. “Do you really have to go tonight?”

          “Unfortunately, yes.” She leaned back on her palms and stared up at the starry night sky. “You’d have thought that after all these years of being a Warden, I would’ve gotten used to not spending too much time in one place. My life is so unpredictable, I can hardly keep up myself.”

          Cullen could not take his eyes off her. He couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing her for more than a week, let alone months, or even a whole year. Who would he go to whenever he had lyrium withdrawal symptoms? Who would he go to whenever he had a nightmare? Who would he go to when he felt stressed and needed someone to help him forget the day? Who would he go to when he needed someone to talk to, to listen to him, to hold him and make him feel stronger than he felt? “Write to me,” he begged, “please.”

          “I will, as often as I can,” she promised. She got to her feet, sooner than Cullen would have liked. “I should really get going. I have a few other goodbyes I need to say before I leave.”

          Cullen swallowed again as he stood, holding back emotion that build in his chest. He squeezed the ring inside his closed palm until it dug into his skin. “I don’t want you to go,” he whispered. “I need you here with me. I love you.”

          Solona smiled and quickly looked away, wiping tears from her eyes. “Keep speaking like that and I won’t be able to go.”

          “There’s no way you can stay?”

          “Not unless I pull an Anders and run away from the Order. But then I’ll have them chasing me my entire life and I’ll be on the run again…so no.” She looked up at him, her eyes shiny and wet. “Trust me, this is the _last_ thing I want to do. I don’t want to leave. But duty calls. This is my life, and you know that. I can’t drop everything to be where I so desperately want to stay. I have to go.” She reached up, one hand cupping his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. “I love you, Cullen, and I’ll always be thinking about you, wherever I am.”

          “Likewise,” he said with a sniff, holding back tears. “I don’t know how I’ll manage without you, Solona.”

          “Just fine,” she assured him. She took a step back. “Now, if I don’t go soon, I’m not going to be able to leave and the Wardens will begin hunting me down.”

          Cullen reached out for her, his hands gripping her waist as she stood on the step above him, their heads at equal heights. “You can’t leave without giving me a proper goodbye.” She leaned down and their lips touched. She wound her arms around his neck as he wound his around her waist. Cullen kissed her softly at first, but then his kisses became more desperate as she began to move away. Tears steamed freely down his cheeks as he held her tighter, unwilling to let her go. He stopped the kiss, the pair of them looking at each other with such longing in their eyes, and she clung to him, her head resting on his shoulder, holding him close. He felt her body tremble in his arms, and a wetness on his neck as she continued to hold him, little sobs escaping her.

          When they finally prised themselves away from one another, her eyes were red and shiny. She wiped her face dry with the back of her sleeve, as did Cullen. She gave him one last kiss on his forehead before dashing inside, her head hanging low.

          Cullen stared after her numbly, taking shaky breaths as he did his best to pull himself together. He slumped back down on the steps and held his head in his hands. _What am I going to do without her?_ His duty was here, with the Inquisition, and hers was out there, with the Wardens. It was cruel, that the Maker would allow him to love a woman who he could only be with for short periods of time. But he loved her all the same, and he would never stop.

          Solona left later that night, a quiet exit without raising too much attention. Cullen stood atop the steps outside the fortress with Leliana, the pair of them waving her goodbye as she and Rainier rode out on horseback with the Wardens they had rescued from Adamant towards Amaranthine, and then on to Weisshaupt.

          “You never get used to her leaving,” said Leliana. The spy master’s eyes watched Solona until she was a tiny dot in the distance. “The moment you get used to her being around, she disappears again.” She placed a comforting hand on Cullen’s arm. “But she writes often,” she assured him. “You will hardly go a month or two without a letter from her.”

          He nodded his thanks at her words, before turning away and re-joining the feast, helping himself to a few sugar cookies and a tankard of mead, taking a seat beside the beardless dwarf who was telling a tale to a small audience about an incident that happened involving his friends in Kirkwall.


	65. Chapter 65

65 – _Letters_

 

_Dear Cullen,_

_I arrived at Weisshaupt a few days ago, and have only just now managed to get a moment to sit down and write to you. Who knew that the desert could be so hot? You thought the Western Approach was bad? Try the Southern Anderfels. It’s hot and humid and disgusting. The state of me would give you a good laugh. Hair plastered to my face and neck, slick with sweat. Completely gross. I miss the chilly air of Ferelden, and its beautiful greenery. Here, there’s nothing but sand, sand, and more sand._

_I told the higher-ups everything they wanted to know about what happened during the past year with Corypheus. They weren’t happy, to say the least. The fact that someone in our Order could be so easily manipulated was a shock, especially a veteran like Clarel. Her body lies here in Weisshaupt all the same, so they can’t have been that angry with her._

_They were happy that I gained aid from the Inquisition to help save the Wardens in Southern Thedas, but at the same time they were a little angry with me for not telling them about it straight away. What was I supposed to do, invite them to come down and they too hear the Calling without any prior knowledge that it was unnatural and caused by a darkspawn magister? But they quickly brushed that aside and weren’t upset at me for long, understanding my reasons._

_Whilst I’m here, I’m going to have a good nosy around. Not many of us get to go to Weisshaupt, so I’m going to explore as much as possible, and then I can tell you all about it in my next letter. I also have to tell King Alistair too, since he’s still a Warden after all._

_What have you been up to since I was away? Keeping busy, I hope. I know how much you hate sitting still._

_I eagerly await your response._

_All My Love,_

_Solona._

**Dear Solona,**

**It is good to hear from you. I am glad that the Wardens at Weisshaupt did not give you too much of a hard time, especially since you have been working with their best interests in mind.**

**I must admit, the thought of you being uncomfortably sweaty does humour me, but I will do my best to keep my urge to laugh under control.**

**Not much has happened here, I’m afraid. Now that Corypheus is defeated, the Inquisition is beginning to split off. Orlesian guests are returning to Orlais—thank the Maker. Dorian is thinking about returning to Tevinter after receiving a letter from his father, although he did not say what it contained. Varric has been called back to Kirkwall. He mentioned something about a new Viscount. Vivienne is in talks with the Circles of Magi that still stand about possibly becoming their leader, now she has the influence of the Inquisition at her back. She still calls me Templar, no matter how many times I tell her not to.**

**Cole is…well, Cole. He disappears to the tavern every now and then, I noticed, however. The Iron Bull and his Chargers still acts as mercenaries for the Inquisition. He and the Chargers aren’t looking to go anywhere any time soon. They’re clearing out the odd cluster of demons they find around Thedas. Sera still attempts to prank me every week or so. Yesterday, she put something in my tea that made me extremely nauseous. I have no idea what it was, and no proof that she did it, but I _know_ she was behind it. Cassandra is in talks to become the new Divine. Apparently, the Chantry took a liking to her and her attitude towards them. Leliana was also considered, but her methods were too…violent. Too extreme. But she swears she’ll bring change among the chantry one way or another. She’s quite frightening when she talks like that. Has she always been this way?**

**We’ve heard nothing from Solas or his whereabouts. A suspicious event, I’ll say. Why leave right after the battle, without any goodbyes or telling anyone where he was going? Leliana’s spies are some of the best, but even they cannot find him. It is as though he was wiped off the face of Thedas. The Inquisitor is pretty torn up about it. They were very close, I hear, and although she’s trying not to show it, I can see that this has affected her.**

**I’m going to have some time off, to see my sister, Mia, my brother, Branson, and my nephew. Apparently, he’s so good at chess that he thinks he can beat me. We’ll see about that.**

**How is Rainier? Did the Joining go well? I wonder how he is.**

**I look forward to hearing more of your adventures as you venture across the world.**

**Love Always,**

**Cullen.**

_Dear Cullen,_

_I’m sorry that it’s taken me two months to write back to you. I’m still at Weisshaupt. ~~There is something~~  Well, I’m not at liberty to give details, but tensions are growing here. Some people aren’t happy with how things are run with so much secrecy, including myself. It’s only a matter of time before infighting begins. I’ve decided to stay here a little longer in order to see it out, and perhaps broker some peace._

_Still no news on Solas? That’s disappointing. It’s also rather strange. Something’s amiss here. It’s also saddening to hear that people are thinking of going their own way now that the Inquisition has done its job, but life moves on and you take different paths in the end. I should know, it’s happened to me many a time._

_Rainier is fine. He passed his Joining and is now a recruit. The other Wardens didn’t take too well to him, however. He got into a few fights during his first week at Vigil’s Keep, from what I’m told. My friend, Nathaniel Howe, performed the Joining. He was also assigned to ensure he settled in well. The other Wardens found out what Rainier had done, impersonating a fellow Warden and lying about the real Warden-Constable Blackwall, and they weren’t too happy with him. But they remembered that they themselves have a past, and they were given a second chance, as Rainier has. He’s settling in better now. He’s one of the oldest recruits, but a good fighter who often shows the younger recruits how things are done. All I know is that he has the right attitude, and he will do just fine when a fresh lot of recruits come in and his crimes are forgotten._

_I’m glad you’re finally getting time to yourself, away from your duties. Although, by the time you receive this, you’ve probably been and come back to work already. I hope all went well. You spoke fondly of your family when we spoke of them last. Your nephew sounds like quite the trouble maker._

_I might not write again for a while. As I said, things are becoming difficult here. Just know that I’m fine and I’m doing my best to try and sort things out. Carver Hawke arrived a few days ago, and as the brother of the Champion of Kirkwall, he’s attempting to help me keep the peace._

_Anyway, I should go, before another fight breaks out in the corridor outside. We act like we are a high and mighty Order, but sometimes it feels like I’m in a rowdy tavern with drunken idiots. Oh well, duty calls._

_All My Love,_

_Solona._

**Dear Solona,**

**Sounds like things are rather difficult there. I hope all is solved quickly for you.**

**I got back from visiting my family a couple of weeks ago. My nephew has grown up so quickly. Every time I visit, he’s grown six inches in height! Time flies by so fast. And, before you ask, yes, he did beat me at chess, the little blighter. He’s talented, I’ll give him that. My brother, Branson, told me he’d been practising almost every day since my last visit where I beat him at a game.**

**I know it’s been only months since we last saw each other, but I miss you dearly. I long to hold you in my arms again and wake up with you in bed beside me. I miss your voice, telling me you love me. I miss you so much, Solona. It hurts when I think about you being so far away from me. Know that I’m always thinking about you, every minute of every day.**

**I thought you might like to know that the Inquisitor has travelled to the Frostback Basin with a Professor from Orlais, who thinks he’s found evidence regarding the final resting place of the last Inquisitor, Ameridan. There’s a lot of Avvar there, so I’m pleased I was not asked to accompany them. Scout Harding has gone along with them.**

**As for me, I’m sitting in my office with a cup of herbal tea. The lyrium withdrawal has begun to ease up a little. My nightmares are less frequent, and my body is starting to feel less lethargic. Hopefully I continue to improve.**

**I look forward to hearing from you again. I always enjoy reading your letters.**

**Love Always,**

**Cullen.**

_Dear Cullen,_

_Avvar? How intriguing! And the Last Inquisitor? What a historical find! Oh, I wish I was there! I love learning about undiscovered history! You must tell me what the Inquisitor found. You know, I spoke to an Avvar once, though they were magically encased in stone and they were not the chattiest of people._

_The situation here at Weisshaupt is not getting any better, but I’ve decided to leave. Apparently, my presence is invoking rebellious behaviour, as I’m seen as a rebellious figure of authority. It’s probably best that I go. I’m getting sick of this hot climate anyway. Before I announced my exit, however, I asked if I could return to my mission of finding a cure to the Calling alongside any other assignments that they give me. They gave me permission, though I’m sure it was just to get rid of me. They don’t like their authority challenged, the secretive lot. Sometimes I wonder what they know, and are so desperate to hide from the rest of us._

_I’ll be on the road for the next few months because of another mission I’ve been allocated, so if I don’t write, you know why. It makes me smile to hear how much you miss me. I miss you too, ever so much. It’s difficult as I spend a lot of my time alone, either recruiting in the area nearby or with other Wardens, but they all have their own business to deal with. I miss spending time with you. If I find myself in Ferelden and you’re still at Skyhold, I’ll try and pop in for a visit. I can’t promise anything, however._

_I’m also glad to hear that you’re doing much better without lyrium. Keep it up! You’re doing so well. I’m proud of you._

_Keep writing to me, even if you don’t hear from me for a while. I read your letters before bed each night. It helps me imagine that you’re here with me, sitting beside a campfire tucked up in a bedroll._

_All My Love,_

_Solona._

**Dear Solona,**

**Leliana told me not to write this, but I haven’t heard from you in a while. Four months I think it’s been since you last wrote. I hope you’ve received my previous letters and they haven’t gone astray.**

**I thought I’d let you know what the Inquisitor found in the Frostback Basin. The last Inquisitor, Ameridan, was not as dead as we previously thought. He was ordered by Emperor Drakon I, around the time of the second Blight, to stop an invasion by the Jaws of Hakkon, a hostile Avvar tribe. The Jaws of Hakkon bound their ‘god’ Hakkon Wintersbreath to a High Dragon. Inquisitor Ameridan stopped the dragon by encasing them both in a time spell. Inquisitor Lavellan fought the dragon and freed Inquisitor Ameridan, but he had been frozen in time for hundreds of years, and so he died as time caught up with his body.**

**Our troubles do not end there, however. After the Battle at Haven with Corypheus, earthquakes shook the Storm Coast. Mine shafts collapsed, threatening the lyrium trade with Orzammar. But the earthquakes haven’t stopped, even after almost a year after the battle. A dwarf named Valta wrote to the Inquisitor with the belief that something intelligent is behind the earthquakes. A Titan, I think she called it. The Inquisitor will be travelling into the Deep Roads to bring aid and get to the bottom of it. I’m certainly glad I’m not going down there. I’m perfectly happy staying above ground with only the sky above my head and not miles and miles of rock.**

**I miss hearing from you. You’re probably busy, but I’ll admit I’m a little worried. When you get a moment, please let me know you’re all right.**

**Love Always,**

**Cullen.**

_Dear Cullen,_

_I haven’t got much time, so this will be short and sweet._

_I can’t tell you where I am or what I’m doing, but know that I’m okay._

_Tell the Inquisitor to bring plenty of supplies for the Deep Roads. If you go down there, you’ll be down there a while._

_I love you, hopefully talk soon._

_All My Love,_

_Solona._

**Dear Solona,**

**I will not lie, your letter does not ease my worry at all, but to hear from you is a relief. I hope that whatever you’re doing isn’t too dangerous, but I’m sure I would be kidding myself if I believed for one moment that you were simply having tea with the Empress of Orlais.**

**Apparently, you’re a fabled hero in Orzammar. Whilst in the Deep Roads, the Inquisitor wrote to tell us that they spoke of you fondly and they admire what you did for them. It seems I am not the only one who thinks you are a brave and noble woman.**

**It is hard, not hearing from you for a long time. I feel as though something terrible may have happened to you, but you always come out of things, with plenty of cuts and bruises to show for it, so I can only hope that you will come out of whatever you are doing now in one piece.**

**Love Always,**

**Cullen.**

_Dear Cullen,_

_I’m sorry to worry you. I’m also sorry that I take so long to reply nowadays. I’m in Denerim at the moment with King Alistair. I finally have a moment to breathe and write to you. I have an extremely difficult task but I think I’m making progress. I’m sure that confuses you, but as you know, I’m bound to secrecy and cannot explain._

_I might be able to spare a few days to come to Skyhold. I can’t promise anything, I could always be called away at any moment, but I’m desperate to see you. It’s been a whole year. It feels like decades, though._

_Funny thing, I received a letter from your sister, Mia, asking when I would next be in Ferelden. Apparently, you could not stop talking about me when you visited your family a few months ago. I’ll admit, that made smile, hearing how highly you think of me. Anyway, she is very eager to meet, and I quote, “The woman who has her brother’s heart.” I think she meant it in a nice way. At least, I hope so. I thought I’d tell you, as it’s clear that she hasn’t said anything to you about it. Perhaps because you are not the best at writing letters back home to your family, and she wouldn’t have expected a quick answer from you._

_It’s a pretty big step, and I told her that I was never in one place for a long time, but she was very eager and not put off in the slightest. She said something about meeting her potential sister-in-law. That caught me off guard! She seems a lovely woman, though. Bubbly and full of energy._

_I’m about to hit the hay. It’s very late here as I write this, and Barkspawn wants to cuddle up with me in bed. He hasn’t seen me for a while but he still remembers me, cute pup._

_Speaking of people not seeing me for a long time, I might be able to spare a few days to come to Skyhold. I can’t promise anything. As usual, I could always be called away at any moment, but I’m desperate to see you. It’s been a whole year. It feels like decades, though._

_I’ll write again soon, since I’m having a little downtime here with Alistair. He demanded I visit him, and when I couldn’t spare the time because of my duty for Wardens, he ordered those at Weisshaupt to release me for a week or so, so that he could discuss ‘important Ferelden business’ with me. More like he wanted me to tell him all about what my time at Weisshaupt in person! But I’m thankful._

_Talk to you soon._

_All My Love,_

_Solona._


	66. Chapter 66

66 – Cullen

**Dear Solona,**

**It pleases me to hear from you again. You had me worried after such a long absence of letters. I don’t think I’ll ever stop worrying about you. You live a dangerous life. I guess it’s something I need to get used to.**

**I cannot believe that Mia would write to you without consulting me! I may have mentioned you once or twice…maybe three or four times…but there was no need to make me out to be a dewy-eyed school boy! I’ll have a few stern words with her, I tell you.**

**I realise that you are extremely busy, but if you could spare even a single day to visit Skyhold, it would make me so happy. I cannot wait to see you again. My heart aches for you. If it goes on any longer, I might have to use my leave days to track you down and come to you myself.**

**Things are rather quiet here. The Inquisitor returned from the Deep Roads about a week ago. I’m doing my best to keep myself busy, but there’s—**

 

          KNOCK, KNOCK.

           “Commander?”

          Cullen looked up from the letter he was writing to see an Inquisition scout lingering in the doorway opposite him. “Come in,” he said, putting his quill down.

          “I have a message, ser, from Lady Josephine.”

          “What is it, now?” he grumbled. “She’s not going to complain about my attitude towards Orlesian guests again, is she? I snapped _once_ at that Countess who thought she had the right to—”

          “There is a visitor in the throne room,” the scout cut in quickly. “Lady Josephine advised that you come and greet them at once.”

          Cullen cocked his head to one side, curious. “Why would anyone want to see the Commander of the Inquisition?” he wondered aloud. “They all want to see Josephine, or the Inquisitor, or…”

          The scout shrugged. “I’m just the messenger,” he said, before leaving the room.

          Cullen grumbled again as he rose from behind his desk. He placed the letter inside a drawer, away from prying eyes, and checked that Solona's griffon ring - too small for any of his fingers - was on a chain around his neck, before following the scout out of his office and across the battlements, into the throne room.

          He opened the doors to find the ambassador speaking with their guest. Cullen froze, as if he had walked straight into a brick wall. He could only see their back, but he recognised them instantly. Black hair that fell past her hips. Grey Warden armour that shined blue and silver. She turned, revealing a face with fresh scars, a prominent one just below her left eye on her cheek. It crinkled as she smiled at him.

          Cullen rushed over to her so fast he was practically running. He almost tackled her as he collided with her small frame, holding her tightly against his chest, breathing in her familiar and comforting scent of flowers and metal. Nothing was said between them for several moments. They simply held one another, thankful that after an entire a year apart, they were together again. Josephine backed away to give them some space.

          Cullen was the first to pull away. He took every inch of her in, soaking in her appearance. “You never told me you were coming for definite,” he said through a smile, cupping her face in his right hand.

          Solona smiled up at him mischievously. “I thought I’d surprise you.”

          Heat spread across Cullen’s face as he realised almost everyone in the room was staring at them. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “We should…umm…”

          Solona took him by the hand and led him through the throne room and into the gardens, where they sat inside the stone gazebo, adorned with flowers growing along vines that snaked up the stone pillars. They sat in silence for a few moments more, holding one another’s hands, giggling whenever they caught the other’s eye.

          Solona was the first to speak. “It feels like an entire age since I saw you last.”

          “It does, doesn’t it?” Cullen agreed. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” He leaned down and kissed her. “I’ve missed you so much.”

          “I’ve missed you too. I didn’t know when I’d see you again after I left here last year. I leapt at the chance to come here.”

          “I’m glad that I entice you so,” said Cullen, his voice deep and alluring.

          A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “You do entice me so. Enough to make me leave my friend early in order to come and see you. Alistair understood though. Told me he was happy for us, that we’d found happiness in such a dark world.”

          “All I know is, I am never happier than when I am with you.”

          Solona shoved him playfully. “Oh, stop it, _Mr Smoothie_ ,” she teased. “You’re so sweet, you’re making my teeth ache.” She shuffled a little closer to him. “But I love it.” Her fingers guided his chin down so that their lips touched again. She kissed him slowly at first, before they became more passionate, more desperate, until they were gasping for breath and blushing red as they remembered that they were still in public.

          “Maybe…we should continue this…somewhere else,” said Cullen, in between breaths.

          “I think I know the perfect place,” said Solona. They held hands again and rushed up towards Cullen’s office. They slipped inside, and with a wave of Solona’s hand, all three doors clicked shut, locking themselves. “Now, where were we?”

***

Tangled in the red and gold embroidered sheets, their bare skin touching as they lay in one another’s arms, Cullen had never felt so blissful. His chest was warm, feeling as though it was about to burst with happiness. Solona snuggled up to his chest, one arm draped over his abdomen. He looked down to see it was dotted with little scars that trailed up her arm like a vine. In fact, now he looked more closely, he noticed that most of her body had small scars scattered here and there, more than he had. _What have you been up to, Solona?_

          She sighed happily, her hair sprawled over his arm that hooked beneath her neck and rested on her waist. “I’ve missed you,” she said.

          He kissed her forehead. “I’ve missed you too, so much.”

          “Can I stay here forever, please?” she teased. “I never want to leave again.”

          They stayed cuddled up together for as long as they possibly could. Cullen held her in his arms, his grip never wavering, fearing that this was all a dream and she would disappear at any moment.

          “So,” he said after a while, “what have you been up to this past year?”

          She raised an eyebrow at him. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

          “I know,” he said. “I was just prodding you.”

          She chuckled as she lent up on her elbow, leaning down to give him a gentle kiss.

          “You seem to have been very busy.”

          “I have! Never stayed in a place for longer than a couple of weeks. Always had to be on the move. I’ve had a couple of Wardens with me, though, so I’ve not been too lonely.”

          “How long do you have here?”

          “A day or two. I think I can push for two days before I have to return to my assignment.”

          Cullen tried not to show the disappointment on his face. Instead he held her tighter, unwilling to let her go even more, knowing that he would lose her again very soon.

          “I hope my arrival didn’t interrupt any important business,” she said, releasing herself from Cullen’s grip. She laid her head down on the pillow beside him, and turned over to face him.

          Cullen laid down too, laying on his side to face her. The two of them held hands in the centre of the bed. “No, I was just writing a letter—to _you_.”

          “Oh! Well, now you can tell me in person.”

          A flush of pink spread across his cheeks. “I must apologise for the forwardness of my sister, Mia,” he said. “She always speaks without thinking.”

          “It didn’t bother me,” Solona replied. “I wouldn’t mind meeting your family. They sound like lovely people.” She paused. “I’d introduce you to my family…but, you know.”

          Cullen had never thought about introducing her to his family. He had only ever wanted her for himself, just the two of them. He had never thought about their families. _How selfish of me._ _She deserves a loving family, since she has none. I have one I could share._ “Why don’t you come and meet them tomorrow, before you go?”

          Solona perked up, curious. “Will we have time?”

          “I believe so. The journey takes a couple of hours from Skyhold at most.”

          Solona suddenly went quiet, looking away from him. “Are you sure about this?”

          Cullen frowned. “What do you mean?”

          “You want me to meet your family? What if they don’t like me?”

          Cullen chuckled. “Why in Thedas would they not like you?”’

          “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I’m a _Grey Warden_ , the Hero of Ferelden, who ‘stole your heart.’” Solona’s eyes widened. “What if your sister meant it in a bad way? Oh no, I can’t, Cullen, I can’t.”

          Cullen shushed her with a finger to her lips. “They will love you, because _I_ love you. They will see how happy you’ve made me, and they won’t care what you are, not that being a Grey Warden or a fabled hero even matters.”

          Solona chewed her lip. “If you’re sure. I guess if we left Skyhold early tomorrow morning, I could see them for a couple of hours before I go…” She fiddled with the sheets above her. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve met plenty of recruits’ families, though, more specifically to tell them that their son or daughter has died in service to the Wardens. I suppose I just need to treat it like that, but instead I’m bringing myself instead of bad news.” She hopped out of bed, pulling on her clothes and armour. “Yes, I think I’ll be all right.” She turned to face Cullen, jutting a finger at him. “But not a word of my nerves to her, understand? I don’t want to seem scared.”

          Cullen made a zipping motion across his mouth. “My lips are sealed.”

          “Right, well, I need to pay a visit to Leliana and a few others today here in Skyhold. They are _long overdue._ But it should take a couple of hours at most.” She walked around the bed and planted a kiss on Cullen’s forehead, before descending the ladder. “I’ll catch you later!” she said as her head disappeared beneath the wooden floorboards. With a whoosh of magic and a click of locks, she opened the doors downstairs and strolled outside.

          Cullen said nothing, only smiled after her, though it faltered slightly as she disappeared out of sight. _Well, I’d better get dressed_ , he thought, pulling himself out from beneath the warm bedsheets. _There’s no rest for the Commander of the Inquisition._ He pulled on his clothes and descended the ladder to his office to continue the never-ending work of the Inquisition’s Commander.


	67. Chapter 67

66 – Solona

Her breath ragged, hands trembling at her sides, Solona did her best to remain calm as she took step after step, getting closer and closer to the task at hand. She walked along a winding road lined with forest trees that touched the sky. Cullen’s casual footsteps crunched alongside her, but she barely heard them over the thudding of her heart that sounded in her ears.

          Cullen’s voice made her jump. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so…anxious.”

          Solona let slip a nervous laugh. “I’ve never felt so worried in my life,” she said, only half-joking. “I’ve faced broodmothers, ogres, the Archi—well, I can’t tell you about that but you get the picture.” Her fingers twitched at her sides. “I just want to make this go right.”

          Cullen frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”

          “Well, first impressions count, right?”

          “It didn’t for us.” She looked up at Cullen to see him smiling down at her. He slid his hand into hers as they walked. “You will make a fine first impression, I know you will.”

          “You’re just saying that.”

          “I say it because I mean it. My first impression of you was a good one, all those years ago. I’m sure my family will think the same.”

          Solona nodded, chewing her lip. “She knows we’re coming, right?”

          “I sent an express letter to her last night.”

          Solona nodded again, forcing calm and slow breaths from her lips. Eventually they reached a small village at the edge of Denerim, lined by a river with a splashing watermill. It was small and compact, with farm animals running amok, children skipping through muddy paths, and people going about their daily routines. The sight made Solona smile. _It looks so peaceful here_. The complete opposite of her life. Chaotic and dangerous. _I wonder if I would have liked a simple life like this?_ _Living day by day with a safe and gentle routine. Maybe a mother to two children with a husband._ Her eyes drifted to Cullen to see a similar expression on his face. His eyes lingered on one building at the edge of the town beside the river, small and thatched, with a small pen of chickens and a pig snorting outside.

          Cullen lead the way over to a small house, rapping three times on the wooden door with his knuckles. A pretty woman with the same golden blonde hair as her brother opened the door. As soon as she saw Cullen she beamed and threw herself into his arms.

          “Cullen! My goodness, it’s so good to see you!” she stepped back, and then slapped him across the arm. “You need to write more, brother! You have me worried sick when you leave me without a letter for months on end!”

          “The danger is over now, Mia,” Cullen said sheepishly. “I don’t need to write to you every day. There’s nothing to write about.”

          “Your well-being would be nice,” she replied. “It’s nice to hear that my brother is still alive.” Her eyes moved from her brother to Solona. “Oh, is this your—”

          “Mia,” he cut in quickly, “this is Solona Amell.”

          Mia’s eyes widened with curiosity. They looked her up and down as Solona’s mind raced, worried about what she looked like at that very moment. She had plaited her hair over one shoulder, and was dressed in her Grey Warden armour. Before Solona could get a ‘hello’ out of her mouth, Mia pulled her into a tight embrace.

          “It’s so good to finally meet you!” said Mia as she pulled away. “Cullen’s told me all about you, of course!”

          “He has?” Solona asked, shooting Cullen a look that said _‘what did you say?_ ’

          “All good things, don’t worry,” said Mia. “I don’t think he’s capable of saying anything rude about you.”

          Cullen blushed. “Mia, that’s enough.”

          Mia pulled Solona inside, and Cullen followed. “Come see our nephew. I’m babysitting him for a while as Branson—that’s our brother by the way—and his wife are visiting her family in Orlais.”

          Solona was pulled by the arm through a small but cosy house and then out into the back garden, where a little boy sat playing in the garden with a toy sword, swinging it around fighting imaginary enemies. Her chest tightened at the sight of him, her steps slowing as they drew close. He had blond hair and hazel eyes, and little freckles all over his face. _He looks like a miniature version of Cullen…_

          Her eyes stung, and she squeezed them shut to keep tears from falling down her cheeks. Shaking away her feelings with a little movement of her head, she smiled as the boy stopped playing and wandered over to greet them.

          “Hello, Uncle Cullen.”

          Cullen knelt down to embrace his nephew and ruffle his mop of blond hair. “Hello, Junior. Who were you fighting today?”

          “Darkspawn!” said Junior, swinging his sword. Cullen had to jerk back so he was not hit in the face. “I heard the girl you like is a Grey Warden!”

          Cullen blushed a darker shade of pink as he scratched the back of his neck. “I…ah…”

          Solona could not help but laugh. “That’s true, I am.”

          Junior looked at Solona and gasped, his eyes so wide they bulged out of his head. “Y-You…You’re a…You’re a Grey W-Warden!” The boy looked as though he was unsure what to do with himself. He straightened his clothes, and sheathed his sword onto his belt. “I’m training to fight darkspawn too, just in case they ever come back. Got to protect my auntie if they do.”

          Solona nodded approvingly. “That’s very brave of you.”

          “Uncle Cullen’s shown me a few things! He promised he’d show me more the next time he sees me…” Junior looked to Cullen with huge, puppy dog eyes. Cullen shook his head with a smile and ruffled the boy’s hair once again.

          Mia linked arms with Solona. “Come, let us leave the boys to it.” She led Solona away back towards the house.

          Her nerves creeped up on her again as they went inside the cosy home, filled with odd bits and bobs. Mia chatted on for what seemed like forever as she fluttered about the small kitchen, with barely any gaps to breathe. It made Solona smile to see such a bubbly woman that Cullen had always described as annoying, but she supposed that’s what siblings did. Solona had never had siblings, and had not known what Cullen meant by ‘sibling squabbles,’ but now she did. It was playful, harmless. Nothing serious.

          “I must say, I’m surprised to see you’re a mage,” said Mia, catching Solona off guard.

          Solona frowned, leaning back against their wooden dining table. “Whatever do you mean?” Her natural instinct to be defensive whenever someone pointed out her magical abilities flared, her fingers clutching the table behind her.

          “Oh, I mean nothing bad by it! It’s a good thing!” Mia stopped tidying in the kitchen and moved to join her, propping herself up on the table beside Solona. Her bubbly nature dimmed, her expression becoming more serious. “Cullen is an ex-Templar. I’m sure you know what that has done to his thoughts on Mages.” She sighed, fiddling with a long of blond hair. “When he first joined the Templars, he seemed so…passionate, so excited to _help_ mages. Then the Fifth Blight happened, and I stopped hearing from him. He did not return any of my letters, I grew more worried by the day. Our brother, Branson, came one day to take me away before the Darkspawn could reach our village. I had to leave, fearing that if Cullen did write to me, I would not receive the letter because I was no longer there. Luckily, you defeated the Blight, but…Cullen had changed so much.”

          Solona nodded, remembering the transformation Cullen had went through. He had completely changed. His youthfulness and naivety had gone. He was hurt, bitter, angry, and scared. The way he had looked at her, it had torn through her, a look of pure hatred. She flinched at the memory.

          “I saw him before he was transferred to Kirkwall,” Mia continued. “All he talked about was how mages were a danger to us all. He even tried to take down my neighbour as he thought she was using incantations to hang up her washing!” Mia shook her head. “It was so embarrassing, and so concerning! I was at a loss for what I was to do! But his mind was made up. Mages were evil and needed to be eradicated.” She glanced out the small window. Solona followed her line of sight to see Cullen play-wrestling with his nephew on the ground, care-free and smiling. Mia smiled too. “When Branson had Junior, I was so worried for him. What if he turned out to be a mage? Would Cullen hate the boy? Would he fear him?”

          Solona nodded understandingly. She was unsure why this woman was opening up to her, but she was grateful all the same.

          “Would he force him into a Circle?” Mia continued. “I hate to say it, but I’d rather hide any children I had from the Circle of Magi than hand them over to the Templars. I never understood my brother’s obsession with them.”

          “Some Templars are nice,” said Solona. “Some are sympathetic and understand that you can’t help but have a gift that was given to you by the Maker.” She lifted her hand and held it out in front of her, palm facing up. A little glowing orb appeared in her hand, a soft glow filling the room. “But some…some are abusive and cruel. The Circle I was in had a mixture of both.”

          Mia’s eyes watched Solona’s orb, a mixture of intrigue and sorrow in them. “One thing I am glad to say is…I no longer see that hatred in my brother. He does not seem to seek out trouble with mages. He is still wary, as expected, but he does not want to hurt them anymore. He tries to help instead, like he wanted to before. When I heard that he was leading the Inquisition’s army, that contained _mages_ of all people, I was shocked, to say the least. The way his tolerance towards mages has changed…” she turned to look at Solona, “…and it’s all because of you.”

          Solona blinked. “Me?”

          “He has mellowed, become softer and gentler. You’ve shown him that mages are good people, who are unfortunate to have a gift that so many people fear.” Mia reached out and held Solona’s hand. “I know that his sister and I’m supposed to be defensive of my brother, but I am so pleased that you have found one another. The way he talks about you, how he smiles and blushes. It’s like all the darkness in his life has gone and he is free of it. He looks so much happier, so much healthier, and I have you to thank for it.”

          Solona stuttered. “I…I don’t think it’s all _me_.”

          “No, probably not _all_ you, but mostly you, yes, and I am so grateful.”

          A smile crept its way onto Solona’s face. “I’m glad to think I’ve had such an effect on him.”

          “You have! You know, there was this one occasion where Cullen—”

          The hairs on Solona’s body raised, a tingle creeping over her skin. A sudden presence alerted her, briefly blocking out all sounds apart from familiar grunting and screeching of…

          “Darkspawn,” Solona blurted, cutting Mia off. She pushed herself off the table, spinning in a circle, her eyes darting about. “Darkspawn are nearby.”

          “W-What?” Mia squeaked, her voice small.

          “Stay inside,” Solona warned, before she darted out the back door towards Cullen and his nephew.


	68. Chapter 68

_67 – Solona_

 Cullen was still play fighting with Junior, now on his back with the little tyke on his chest, a wooden sword to Cullen’s throat in an act of triumph. Cullen froze when he noticed Solona dart outside, her eyes wide in search of the enemy. He gently pushed his nephew off his chest and got to his feet. “Solona, what’s wrong?” he asked.

          “Darkspawn,” she said, tapping into her senses to locate them. “I feel them. They’re close.”

          Cullen’s body tensed beside hers, the both of them on high alert. “How many?” he asked, his voice deep and strong, his commander-voice.

          She closed her eyes, reaching even further into her connection with the Blight. “A handful. Five or six, I believe.” She opened her eyes and unsheathed her staff, magic crackling along the metal and in her hands. “They’ll be upon us in any minute.”

          “I thought the Inquisitor had closed all the holes to the Deep Roads in Ferelden,” said Cullen.

          “She must have missed one.” Solona jerked to her left, following her senses to see a group of darkspawn running over the hill towards them. Lightning surged over her arms and down into her staff, and when the creatures drew close, she released it into the group. They screeched and wailed, but it was only enough to knock them down. They quickly got back to their feet and continued their charge. People in the village began to notice them, and screams and panic filled the air.

          “Keep control of the village,” Solona told Cullen, “I’ll deal with them.”

          Cullen nodded and rushed off into the centre, becoming a voice of reason and calm within the panic as he tried to soothe the village folk. He ushered them back inside their homes, his blade out in his right hand as the darkspawn wildly sprinted into the village.

          Solona ran out to meet them. She vaulted over the village’s small, mismatched stone wall and sent a wave of magic towards a pair of darkspawn chasing a woman into her home, knocking them into barrels of water, wood splinters and liquid shooting everywhere. Behind her, a darkspawn swung their rusty axe. Solona ducked, surged lightning through her palm, into her fingers, and around the darkspawn’s head. She gritted her teeth as the lighting surged around the creature, fizzling and searing at its skin until it collapsed, dead.

          She spun on the spot to the sound of a whizzing arrow. She dodged just in time, darting to her right as the arrow passed over her shoulder, narrowly missing her head. Lifting her staff up, she summoned fire, and threw a large mass of it towards the darkspawn archer. They dodged as the flames licked their way through the air towards them. Solona swung her staff around her body, charging the magic within her. Arrows _pinged_ off her metal staff with every step she took towards the creature, and when she drew close, she sent the blade at the bottom into its skull. It stopped moving, and fell at her feet, dead.

          The creatures sensed their connection with her as they spent more time in each other’s presence, and she became their soul target. They surged in on her location, pushing innocent village folk attempting to flee to the ground as they raised their bloody and rusty weapons. Solona’s hands vibrated as magic charged in their presence, the power growing and growing until she released it with a _bang_. One darkspawn was thrown back into the stone wall, its body hitting the wall, but its head sored right over it, decapitating itself from the body. Another darkspawn threw its blade at her. It grazed her shoulder as she jerked out of its way. In a fluid movement, she twisted to regain her balance and sent her staff’s blade into its chest. With a grunt, she shoved her foot into the creature to remove it from the end of her staff, and it too fell to the ground, dead.

          As she twirled on the spot to see where the next darkspawn would be coming from, but then she saw something that made her heart leap out of her chest. Branson Junior was charging towards a darkspawn with his wooden sword and reckless courage. She distantly heard Cullen call his name, and Mia scream from within her wooden home. Solona had seconds before the darkspawn spotted the boy, as its attention was on her, but not for long. Darkspawn had incredible senses for such demented creatures. It turned on the spot to see the boy charging, and Solona swore she thought she saw the creature grin.

          Her feet moved before her mind had made up what to do. She sprinted with all of her might towards the boy, who looked the creature that resembled death straight in the eyes, with nothing but a wooden sword. She leapt over darkspawn corpses, over barrels and bales of hay. She summoned the air around her to push her body towards the boy as the creature raised its blade, ready to cut down the tiny hero. Solona cried out as she jumped off of another wall, a coldness spreading over her fingers as she summoned ice to her palms and threw it like a sharp blade towards the creature. It impaled the darkspawn into the ground, straight through its torso. Junior then leapt on the creature, whacking his toy sword against its head and declaring, “I saved you, Auntie! I saved you!”

          “Junior!” Solona wheezed, ripping him from the creature by his shoulder. “That was so reckless of you!”

          There was no fear in the boy’s eyes when he looked up at her. In fact, he looked thrilled, excited. “I was being a warrior, like you! Like a Grey Warden!”

          Solona’s breath was shaky and fast as she clutched onto the boy’s shoulder, keeping him still as he bounced on his heels. Behind her, she felt the last darkspawn presence extinguished, no doubt by Cullen’s blade. All was safe, and she had saved Junior’s life.

          “BRANSON RUTHERFORD JUNIOR!” Mia’s voice sounded across the grass with such fury that it even made Solona flinch. “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?” she yelled as she marched over, her hands clutching at the apron tied around her waist, the blood and ichor on the ground making her nose curl. She grabbed Junior by the ear. “You are a _boy_! You cannot throw yourself into a situation you cannot handle!”

          Junior managed to wriggle out of his aunt’s grasp as Cullen jogged over. He gave Solona the once over with his eyes, relief clear in his expression as he planted a kiss on her cheek, and then embraced his sister. Then he turned to his nephew. “You are so very lucky that Solona was close enough to save you from that darkspawn, young man,” he said sternly.

          Junior scowled. “She didn’t save me! She helped me!”

          “She _saved_ your sorry backside, mister!” said Mia. “You are going to be punished for this. I mean it!”

          “I was trying to be a Grey Warden!” Junior retorted with in a huff. “It’s what I want to be when I grow up!”

          Solona felt a pang of guilt in her stomach. She looked down at the boy, innocent and free, a clever, talented boy. Solona knelt down in front of him so their eyes were level. “I know we look admirable and brave,” she told him, “and my order is a group of fabled heroes, but we are not what you think we are. Being a Grey Warden isn’t something you should want to be. If you are truly meant to be one of us, you will be sought out. But you should never want to be one of my brethren.” Solona got to her feet, her heart aching. “You will have to leave your family. Your mother, father, your aunts, and uncle. Do you want that?”

          Junior thought for a moment, clearly wanting to be defiant, but his shoulders sagged. “No.”

          “You will never have your own family,” she said, her voice breaking. “Never have a wife or children of your own. You will be thought of as an outcast, a freak, at times, when society sees fit. Do you want that either?”

          “N-No.”

          “Being a Grey Warden is not a blessing, it’s a curse. Remember that.” Solona sheathed her staff on her back harness and walked away from the family, eyes stinging with tears once again.

 

_Cullen_

Cullen found Solona sitting alone beside the gently flowing stream near his sister’s house. She had gathered some water in a pale and was attempting to scrub some of the ichor and blood from the fight off of her uniform. He sat down beside her on the grass. Neither of them said a word to the other. Solona appeared to ignore him, as she made no attempt to acknowledge his presence. Instead she continued scrubbing at her clothes, leaving damp patches on the cloth.

          “I saw the look on your face when you first saw my nephew,” he said quietly. “And the way you looked at him after the fight.” He shuffled a little closer to her, noting how her fingers clutched tightly at the cloth she was scrubbing her uniform with until her knuckles turned white. “It still bothers you, doesn’t it? Even though I said I don’t mind if we don’t—”

          “Well, _I_ _do_ ,” she barked back suddenly, scrubbing even harder. “I care. I care that I can’t give you children. I saw how happy you were with Junior and…I wish I could give you that happiness.”

          Cullen took her hand to stop her violently scrubbing her boots. Solona paused under his touch. “I have already told you how I feel on the subject,” he said carefully. “I know that it troubles you, but you know that I am okay with the knowledge that I will not have a family.”

          Solona sighed, hanging her head. “You say that now, but what about in ten years’ time? Or twenty? Will you still feel the same? Or will you look back and regret it?”

          Cullen brought her lips to his and kissed her tenderly. “I love you. Nothing will ever change that. Having a family is not a top priority for me. _You_ are.”

          Solona looked up at him, confused, and then with large, sad eyes. “Do you mean that?”

          “What do I say every time you ask that?”

          She let slip a small smile. “That you _do_ mean it.”

          “Then that’s the answer to your question.” He wrapped his arms around her, closing her off from the rest of the world, tucked up against his chest. “I think we’re both a little too messed up to be thinking about children right now anyway,” he said teasingly, squeezing a tiny laugh out of Solona. “Not being able to give someone children does not make you any less of a person. It only makes you stronger, knowing that it is something you cannot do, and yet you still carry on. I admire you for it.”

          Solona rested her head against him. Cullen felt her entire body relax in his grasp. “Thank you,” she whispered. “People think of me as this strong warrior who can stand against anything…but I can only do that with you.”

          “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not going anywhere then, isn’t it?” he joked, making her laugh again. He looked back at the little thatched cottage behind them, where he could distantly hear his sister’s voice screaming at the top of her lungs through an open window about how immature and irresponsible their nephew was. He could not blame her for such a reaction. Branson Jr. had acted irresponsibly, without thought for anyone else. He felt a twinge of nostalgia at that thought. _I used to be like him. I joined the Templars without thought to how it would affect my family. I threw myself into danger without thinking about who would be upset if I died. Junior cannot make the same mistakes as I did._

          Cullen rose from the ground, and helped Solona to her feet. They scooped up her belongings and returned to the house, where Branson Jr. sat in the corner of the room with his arms crossed, his face red with anger, his cheeks puffed with determination. Mia had collapsed into a chair, her head in her hands.

          “He could have died…” she muttered as the couple walked in. “Branson would have _killed_ me if Junior had died…”

          “He’s alive, and that’s what matters,” said Solona. She entered the tiny kitchen and returned with a mug of water for Mia, sitting in the chair beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

          Cullen felt an urge to share his wisdom with his nephew. He crouched down beside the boy, who refused to look at anyone, his eyes stuck on the floor. “Junior,” he began carefully, “you know that what you did today was—”

          “Stupid, I know,” Junior grumbled. “Auntie Mia’s told me that a million times already.”

          “It was brave,” said Cullen, taking his nephew by surprise. “I admire your courage. It’s not every day that you see a boy as young as you stand up to a darkspawn without fear.”

          Junior smiled. “You mean, you think Auntie was wrong? I was right to defend her!”

          “No,” said Cullen. “You were brave, but you acted irresponsibly.” He sat down on the ground beside the boy, his legs spread out in front of him. “To be a warrior, you must control your mind as well as your body. You were half way there, controlling your fear, but you did not control your thoughts. You allowed them to slip by. You did not _think_ before you acted. Warriors must always judge a situation carefully. Evaluate, and determine the best course of action. Now, a small boy running towards a darkspawn without any training or strength in his small bones…was that a good idea?”

          Junior thought about it for a moment. “No,” he said eventually.

          “You could not have defeated the darkspawn, no matter how brave you were. Fighting with a play-sword is nothing compared to fighting actual creatures. You are young, and have much to learn. You can only fight when you are ready. Unfortunately, you are not ready.”

          “How can I be ready?”

          “As annoying as it sounds, you must be patient. That is another skill of a warrior. Patience. You must train, study, and more importantly, _grow_.” He poked at the boy’s little legs. “You cannot fight a monster double your size—not without help.”

          “I don’t need help,” said Junior. He opened his palm, and a small, glowing light appeared above his hand. “I have all I need right here.”

          Cullen flinched, his entire body tensing. “Y-You have magic?”

          Solona whirled round at the mention of magic, as did Mia. Mia gasped, her hands clasped over her mouth, eyes flicking between Junior and Cullen. Solona darted to the boy’s side and closed his palm shut. “Who knows about this?” she demanded.

          “No one!” Junior replied, his eyes wide in a panic at everyone’s startled reaction. “No one but me!”

          “Good, then it must stay that way.” Solona looked back at Mia. “Close all the windows,” she ordered. Mia did as she was told, swooping around the cottage and closing all the wooden shutters over the windows. Solona then looked to Cullen, who had not moved. He stared in shock at his nephew, his mind numb, unable to comprehend what was happening.          “Cullen, move away, please,” she asked. He remained where he was as a stream of thoughts and memories flooded into his brain. Magic…in his nephew? _Impossible!_ “Cullen,” she asked again, more sternly. “ _Move away_.”

          Mia took him by the arm and physically pulled him away with her to stand beside the table. Her eyes locked themselves onto him, as if waiting for him to explode. He felt like he might. A part of him was in utter shock, another part was fearful, and another was confused. _How could this be?_

          Junior started to cry as the atmosphere in the room became tense. Solona rubbed his arms to sooth him. “It’s okay, Branson. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

          “He’ll take me away, won’t he,” the boy sniffed. “Uncle Cullen will take me to the Templars and I’ll never see my family again!” He wailed, hiding his tearful face in his hands. “I don’t want to be a mage!”

          Solona held him steady by his shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. “No one will take you away. I’ll make sure of that.” She brought the boy into her arms, holding him close as he cried.

          “What do we do?” asked Mia, finally taking her eyes off her brother, though she kept an iron grip on his upper arm.

          Cullen finally found his voice. “The Circles are in disarray at present,” he said. “No one would be able to take him anywhere.”

          “But he needs teaching,” said Solona. “If magic is left to grow wild, it will become uncontrollable. She got to her feet, and scooped the boy up into her arms, resting him on her hip.

          “Then we must find a tutor!” said Mia. “We must find someone who will come to him at home and—”

          “No,” Solona said quickly. “I knew a man once who tried to be a teacher to a young mage, and it went horribly wrong.” She looked away, a sad look in her eye. “He needs to go to Tevinter. Cullen and I know a Magister there who worked with the Inquisition. He can help the boy, I’m sure of it.”

          “You mean Dorian Pavus?” asked Cullen. “You think he will be a good teacher? He’s a necromancer!”

          “He will not teach the boy _necromancy_ ,” said Solona. “Just enough to ensure that he is not a danger to himself or those around him. Hawke helped a mage, Fenriel, in Kirkwall once. He went to Tevinter, and now he is a talented mage. I think this is what’s best for him, to learn about magic in a place where it is not feared.”

          The boy sniffed again. “But…I don’t want to leave my family.”

          “You might have to, for a time. But you can always write to them and they can visit you. It won’t be forever, but it’s necessary, trust me. If you can avoid going into a Circle, it will do you the world of good. There, you would never see your family again. I would hate for you to live the life I did, without a family. I never knew my mother, except through a faded memory of the day they took me away from her. I don’t remember my father, or any siblings I had. The only family I have now is your uncle.”

          She looked back at Cullen. Inside, he was torn. The Templar in him believed this was all wrong. That Branson Jr. should be locked away in a tower for his own good. But…it also felt wrong. Cullen had seen what Circles did to mages, especially the bad ones. Kirkwall was a good example of this. Mages were taught to fear themselves. Templars acted like jailors rather than guardians. When fear and anger mixed together, things did not end well. He looked at the boy in Solona’s arms. Young and afraid. Solona was right. Tevinter was the best place for him. There he could learn how to harness and control his magic safely without fear, and he could return without endangering anyone or himself.

          These thoughts surprised him. _The old me would have been shocked to think that a mage could live outside a Circle. But…Solona has changed me._ He smiled at her. “Tevinter it is then. We shall return to Skyhold with Junior and contact Dorian from there.” He turned to Mia. “I’m sorry, sister. We must go at once.”

          Mia nodded, saddened, but there was relief in her face as well as she looked at her brother. “Take good care of him. I will tell Branson what happened.” She embraced Cullen, then Solona, and then her nephew. She held the boy in her arms for several moments, tears streaming down her face. “You will be okay, Junior, okay?” she said. “You will be a great mage, just you wait and see. But, be careful for me, okay? Be good, and listen to your teachers.”

          Junior nodded, his expression dazed, as if unable to take it all in. “Goodbye, Auntie.” He followed Solona and Cullen out the front door of the small cottage, taking nothing with him but the toy sword sheathed on his belt.


End file.
